
and Other Poems 




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BIRCH-ROD DAYS 
AND OTHER POEMS 



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Gubslmav r*HaTa-G*AVURE Co- 




BIRCH-ROD DAYS 

AND OTHER POEMS 



BY 
WM. C. JONES 



JOHN F. CUNEO CO. 

1909 

CHICAGO 






copyright 
1909. 

WILLIAM C. JONES. 



KH.-A25398! 



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MARY — MY PLAYMATE WHEN A CHILD; 
THE IDOL OF MY BOYHOOD — WILD J 
THE DEABEST WIFE OP MANHOOD DAYS — 
I WILL TO THEE INSCBIBE MY LAYS. 



CONTENTS 

A Charivari 144 

A Guest of the Club 127 

Allie 224 

A Merciless Mind 120 

An Episode 221 

Angling 195 

An Ill-Formed Alliance 259 

An Ill-Sorted League 257 

At the Dickens Club 211 

Autumn Leaves 96 

Avarice . . , 114 

A Wish 182 

Best Look Before You Leap 159 

Better Than Gold 72 

Birch-Rod Days 17 

Can You Kiss and Never Tell? 192 

Caution 147 

Changes 230 

Character 201 

Christmas 255 

Coins 272 

Come My Love 190 

Crafty 252 

Cupid and Death 87 

Dame Fortune 112 

Daunt Not the Spirit 234 

David Taylor 20a 

Deception 261 

Discontent 149 

Discretion 243 

Dissension 247 

Drones vs. Bees 110 



Envy 191 

Epitaph 217 

Fail Not 86 

Flattery 155 

Forgive, O That Religion 235 

Found 178 

Friendship's Disease 82 

Greasy Hollow Station 174 

Help 161 

Hypocrisy 166 

I Can Sit and Listen Nightly 171 

Idle- whiles 74 

Idly-Heeding 118 

In Contempt 153 

In Fancy Dreaming 66 

In Memoriam — Father and Son 215 

In Memory of Gen. Lawton 183 

Integrity 157 

In the Oil Fields 199 

Keats 43 

Labor Has Its Reward 181 

Life's Grapes 264 

Lingering at the Grave 48 

Little Lights 36 

Love's Arrows 64 

Luxury and Ease 222 

Madie Green 97 

Messenger of Morn 116 

Mine, Only Mine 94 

Mocking-bird and Jay ■ 83 

Molliter Manus Imposuit 163 

My Florida 47 

My Lady Fair 248 

My Loves 203 

My Mary 229 

Old Age 6 " 

Oppression • • 270 

Our Combination 219 

Our Country Home 70 



Our Faithful Servants 120 

Polly, You Talk Too Much 137 

Recompense 143 

Rejected 85 

Remember, Boys, the Maine 196 

Scotch Letter 249 

Sleep and Hope _. 100 

Sonnet 173 

Spare the Rod and Spoil the Child 124 

Summer's Labor 245 

Sunny Southern Home 97 

Sweet Lady, I Love Thy Fair Face 91 

Temporal Power 237 

The Battle-Flag 78 

The Cross Ill-Natured Man 56 

The Dancing Kid 122 

The Disastrous Crossing 141 

The Felon's Dream 89 

The Felon's Soliloquy 39 

The Fireside 253 

The Harvest of Death 37 

The Little Physician . .225 

The Man of Dignity 133 

The Miser 265 

The Mocking-bird 44 

The Oil Mascot of Illinois 213 

The Old Assessor 207 

The Old River Road 298 

The Orator 59 

The Redbird 177 

The Relation of Man to Nature 277 

The Reward of Stealth 26S 

The Sleigh Ride 185 

The Smile of Woman 139 

The Sunny Southern Home 92 

The Templar 80 

The Thrush 173 

The Train 51 

The Traitor Bird 103 



The Tree and the Rose 54 

The Twilight Shades 76 

The Wabash 106 

The Water Lily 167 

The World Is Cold and Dreary 109 

Three Plagues 232 

To Mary 236 

Tom Welsh 187 

To My Friends 180 

To My Wife 68 

To Portia 233 

Transformation 131 

Treacherous Friendship 271 

True Might 241 

Union Is Strength 117 

Valor 135 

What Is Fame? 62 

What Is Life? * 227 

When Fortune Frowns 41 

Who May Serve Well? 108 

What Is There Better Man Can Do? 239 

Would You Attain to Greatness? 60 



BIRCH-ROD DAYS 

AND OTHER POEMS. 



BIRCH-ROD DAYS. 

Fond memory still recalls the bygone day 
Of cruel tyrannizing birch-rod sway, 
When sturdy teacher, of the old-time school, 
Did govern well with birch-rod and the rule. 
His unrelenting look, his solemn mien, 
May, in imagination, still be seen ; 
The truant, disobedient of his law, 
Recalls how quick he was to find some flaw ; 
Remembers youthful days — the days of woe- 
When oft was dealt the unforgiving blow 
Upon the back, oft minus coat and vest, 
Of hapless youth, for trifles, thus opprest. 

Who dared to look or feel a moment gay, 
Felt his coercion during all that day ! 



18 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 

Well calculated to suppress all noise, 
His laws inexorable — were for boys. 
We would rebel, yet each rebellious time 
Were scored with the birch-rod, as for some crime. 
Forgive him ! Never ! My heart revolting swells 
With wicked thoughts, when back my memory dwells. 
Yet, I remember, when in days now past, 
We were all taught to spell, alike and fast ; 
To syllable and pronounce were taught it well- 
Taught from the spelling book — learned how to spell ; 
The class in reading, from books, were taught to read. 
The teacher had one purpose — to succeed ; 
And grammar, boys and girls were sparse 
Who could not give the well-known rules and parse; 
Each winter brought us to the rule of three, 
And we could cipher well — for well could he ; 
In writing the teacher would oft indite 
A couplet, in our copy-books to write : 
And well we wrote, and there was scarce a blot — 
For praises from his grace quite oft were sought — 
But never given, unless true worth was there— 
Worth was not found, if 'twas, I'm not aware. 
Among them all, alone there is now but one 
My boyhood 's memory loves to dwell upon ; 
He spared the rod on me, a helpless wight, 
And made me love him, ruled me not by might ; 



.... "Mir 





AND OTHER POEMS 19 



Judge was he then, as now he is supreme- 
Best of them all, be he alone my theme : 



ACROSTIC. 



Just man ! A friend of my earlier days, 
AJ1 hail, to thee I kindly offer praise ! 
Clear thy head in discrimination then — 
Oft hast thou shown it 'mong thy walks with men : 
Brilliant in speech, and sweet in voice also ; 
When first I knew thee, thou did'st greatness show. 
When in my boyhood days, young, frank and free, 
In thy tuition I loved then to be ; 
Led by thy teaching we first inclined 
Knowledge to obtain for the youthful mind. 
Infinite thy offices — we name thee — 
Noblest of kind men — true ashman can be. 
As the mind recalls those days, I am proud 
There is one enduring without a cloud 
To darken. Brilliant to-day — bright was then- 
Best of dear teachers — loveliest of men ; 
Who ruled and governed well — one always may 
Kindly — without dictatorial sway. 

My memory loves to dwell upon those days — 
For even 'midst the clouds of mist and haze 



20 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 

Life's brightest sunshine will ofttimes appear 
When looking back o 'er times we now revere. 
Ah, chilling time ! we turn aside to glance 
And find thy fancied visions all romance ; 
Thy fondest hopes, thy brightest dreams, 
Sad memories for life's after themes. 

We hear no more the gentle, child-like voice, 
Who long, long years ago was youthful choice 
Of one who bent with years, now silvered gray, 
Waits but for time to bear his cares away ; 
Waits for the hour to come when life is o 'er, 
When he shall join her on the other shore. 

CLARA. 

I think me now of one sweet lovely girl, 
That was the gem 'mong many a maiden pearl, 
That grew in beauty and in charm and grace 
Until we loved her — time will ne'er efface 
The memory of her dark and sparkling eyes — 
Bright as the stars, that nightly jewel skies ; 
And the wavy tresses of her dark-brown hair 
Were soft and silken, as her face was fair ; 
Lithe was her slender form, each perfect part 
Chiseled as it were for the sculptor's art ; 



AND OTHER POEMS 21 

With voice full round, so tender, soft and sweet, 
She spoke no word you would not wish repeat. 
But like the wild tiowers that we used to gather 
And bring to her from held and off the heather, 
She too has faded and gone now to rest 
With Him who gave that angel spirit blest 
Unto loved friends, who now lingering stay- 
To watch and weep o 'er now her lifeless clay. 
Who is there that hath not stood by the grave 
Of some near and dear friend, and tried most brave 
To stop the silent tear of bitter sorrow 
That crushed the fond hopes of the bright to-morrow ? 
Who is there that does not now recall 
The sorrow of the funeral knell and pall ? 
Who is there here on earth that would not give 
His own sweet life, one dear to him might live ? 
Who is there that has not felt the sting and tear 
Of bitter anguish losing friends most dear ? 
And yet 'mongst God's angel- forms and fairies, 
I '11 find, I know, some day, my lost loved Clara's ! 

THE SKATE. 

December's sun had risen bright and clear; 
Red cheeks told all that winter was severe. 
But boys were happy, for the chill of night 



22 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 

Brought to them bright visions of rare delight ! 
The creek was frozen o'er, its glistening ice 
Was to their minds a part of paradise ; 
And early morning's task at home complete, 
Each buckled on his skates for winter's treat. 
Alas ; the glittering surface of the ice 
Did many a truant boy from school entice. 
The swiftest was a ' ' deer, ' ' and soon the race, 
For forty lusty throats quick gave him chase ! 
The school bell rang, although its notes were clear, 
What cared we now for it, while playing deer? 
Away we went, each steady skater's stroke 
But hours of greater distance on us broke ; 
And as the rapid race more intense grew 
It seemed to every one he fairly flew ! 
And when, at last, we caught the long-chased deer, 
The air was rent with loud and deafening cheer! 
It was then boys circles cut, and eagles spread- 
While some cut letters that were plainly read! 
On ice we ran to see who could farthest jump — 
Saw stars, in daylight, as our heads would thump! 
Yes, mingled we in sports, then, o 'er and o 'er, 
Just as boys mingled in the days of yore. 
Then we schoolward turned, every skater gay, 
Little did he list, the weal that he must pay. 
On the homeward journey one always tires 



AND OTHER POEMS 23 

And passes little that he first admires; 

Tis true of life, we pass ambition 's goal, 

Then pray to rest the weary mind and soul. 

Ah, noble youth, thy freaks are oft despised, 

When better judgment should them have prized I 

Think you, my friend, that buoyant boyish vim 

Augurs not usefulness to follow him ? 

Exultant youth, you are both bright and gay, 

Will ever live to bear life 's prize away ? 

We reached the school-house door, our faces bright, 

Forgetful of the hour, in our delight — 

Our teacher's angry looks, his sullen tones, 

Were to us worse than the next day's aching bones — 

His switches? I remember— and live to tell — 

How well he used them — Aye, he used them well ! 

THE HUTSON MASSACRE. 

In eighteen hundred and twelve, a pioneer, 
Named Hutson, left for the wilderness, then here. 
His wife was with him, and six boys and girls ; 
One, a maiden of sixteen, had soft brown curls, 
And bright blue eyes, with ruddy cheeks, so fair, 
She would with lovely lilies well compare ! 
The daughter the idol of her father's heart — 
And when the time had come they must depart 



24 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 

For the unknown, and then far distant west, 
She was with all his future plans imprest. 
Hardships endured, and privations by the way 
Were laughed at, in hopes of a better day. 
Then came they to a land in Nature 's dress — 
A plain and valley teeming in f ruitf ulness : 
Earth had not then, nor now, a lovelier spot, 
Than the grand fertile prairie of Lamotte ! 
It was here Hutson built a homely dwelling — 
A rude log cabin — his stout heart welling 
With joy o'er the happiness it gave to him, 
To be thus safely housed in a cabin trim. 
Time went smoothly on until the season's close, 
When their harvest warned them of the savage foes ! 
Plundering, murdering, committing ravages, 
Around that cabin home were lurking savages, 
Who for the pale face had the most intense hate- 
Yet none was more horrid than the Hutsons ' fate : 
One evening, as the sun sank in the west, 
A mother sat watching, with babe at breast, 
The return of the father who had gone to mill 
Miles of distance, across the plain and hill. 
Would that lovely sunset, as it westward fell, 
Could but their cruel fate to them foretell ! 
Calmly she waits— when yells of Indian devils 
Break now upon her — death in carnage revels ! 



AND OTHER POEMS 25 

Her babe was into a boiling caldron thrown j 

Mother and children tomahawked, save one lone 

Sweet lovely girl ; who was their captive led 

To live a life of torture, shame and dread ! 

Then to that cabin was placed a torch of fire, 

The lifeless hurled thereon! "While with demon's ire 

They watched the rolling flames and curling smoke, 

Till the dying embers the end bespoke ! 

Hutson came home! Though strong of manly frame 

Intensely haggard now his face became ! 

Amid the agony of helpless woe, 

The teardrops from their fountain ceased to flow ! 

The carnage was complete. Aye, well he knew 

The brutal nature of the scene in view ! 

Hutson, from all once near and dear, then turned, 

And while on horse, as heart within him burned, 

There vowed eternal vengeance, o 'er and o 'er, 

Against the Indians for evermore. 

Well did he keep that vow ! Week after week, 

He with his trusty rifle did vengeance seek ; 

Until, at last, he too was known to fall 

At the head of troops, pierced by the Indian's ball ! 

And the old creek, where we boys used to skate, 

Was named Hutson, o 'er his untimely fate ! 

On the Wabash banks, above and beneath the hill, 

Sits to his memory, the village — Hutsonville. 



26 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 

'Tis said that we grow old! That time's decay 

Will ehange our first impressions day by day ; 

That man will change the purpose of his youth, 

And feel that all is fading — even truth; 

That what is good lived only in the past — 

The world's degenerating fast and fast. 

The lawyer lays aside his book, grown old, 

Which once to him such precious truths had told, 

And folds the door upon the musty shelf, 

And feels despondent with the world and self — 

Then moralizes o'er his time and fate, 

And blames the world, not his declining state ; 

But youth, exultant, with an eager look, 

Will gather up the self -same, shelf -worn book; 

Its musty pages will anew read o 'er, 

And glean fresh treasures from its valued store. 

He will for the future each day newly plan 

And feel the world depends on coming man ; 

New cities shall grow up, the future great, 

Will rival all the past in Church and State ! 

'Tis ever thus; the old shall weary be, 

While eager youth is buoyant, lithe and free ; 

And feels the world, with all its broad expanse 

Is made for him, his pleasures to enhance ; 

And grapples with it, new treasures sure to find, 

That ever yield to his inquiring mind. 



AND OTHER POEMS 27 

One age declines, another takes its place, 

And progress ever marks our noble race. 

Aye, man ! no matter what thy noble sphere, 

You love to wander back to things once dear ; 

And dear to thee, which after years will trace, 

Are all the scenes of boyhood's time and place. 

Call back in memory, ye gray-haired sires, 

Call back to memory your youthful fires ; 

Call back the well known laws you once transgressed, 

Call back the many times you were repressed ; 

Go back unto the turning point of life, 

The sweet repressions of the future wife ; 

She, who was sweetheart of your youthful days, 

Reproving kindly your first wayward ways. 

THE SPELLING SCHOOL. 

How cheery was the old-time spelling school 
Given by the teacher in days of birch-rod rule. 
Do you not still remember with what delight 
We hailed the coming of that eventful night ? 
The mud of winter, or the drizzling rain, 
Caused us no great anxiety or pain ; 
For we would all then bundle well and go 
Be it through storm or dreary winter's snow; 
Do you not still remember the rosy cheeks 



28 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 

Which cheerful youth and health alone bespeaks? 

His glasses were adjusted, with stick in hand, 

He was determined all erect should stand; 

Long lines were drawn up, like armies well arrayed 

For field of action, not for dress parade ; 

And warm the coming contest, for there were those 

Who faced each other like they were deadly foes ! 

And there were some who could spell every word 

In Webster's spelling book — for I have heard 

It said, 'twas only by some grave mistake 

That either side could well earned honors take. 

Tis no fancied vision ! I remember well 

The merry times of the old-fashioned spell ! 

The night though dark, the sidewalk then unknown, 

But other pleasures would for these atone ; 

For as we wandered home, her words so sweet, 

I would not dare in after life repeat ! 

But you remember, though now you're silvered gray, 

The words as well as 'twere but yesterday. 

And you might tell, though this perhaps you'd hate — 

The kiss was stolen — just at her father's gate! 

These feats of skill by all were well enjoyed, 

Think you not still, 'twas time quite well employed? 

0, boyhood's happy days ! We dream them o'er, 

Forgetful now the ills we had in store, 

As we go back unto our first old home, 



AND OTHER POEMS 29 

To find none dearer 'neath earth's fair old dome, 

We see again with new enrapt delight 

The dear old teachers in their power and might ; 

And learn that obedience from their law 

That ever guides our after life in awe. 

Ah, yet those lessons first impressed in youth 

Are full of thought — if not prosaic truth. 

We find the boy a man, and watch his course, 

And hail delightedly his manhood's force; 

Then trace his truant youth, his wayward ways, 

To find the man was made in birch-rod days. 

THE DEBATE. 

Can you call back the anguish of your look 

When first you part in the discussion took ? 

His august presence, as he sat in state, 

And eager watched your first debate ! 

Aye, Cushing 's Manual, altho ' 'twas new, 

Produced not consternation then to you; 

But stammering, speechless, with your heart in 

throat — 
Forgetful of points you were quick to note ; 
The floor was sinking — it would soon give 'way — 
You could not then on feet one thought convey. 
Your effort was a failure — but his word 



30 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 

Was not reproof, and when from him you heard : 
' ' The Halls of Congress would some day resound 
With words from the speaker, intense, profound ! ' : 
You felt at once this life to you renewed, 
As with new found ideas you were imbued. 
Confidence in yourself when once you've gained 
Ever through life will be by you maintained. 
And from that moment in forensic art 
You eager were to take some active part ; 
Skilled in parliamentary law, you tried 
With due deliberation to preside. 
Your efforts then, if with success were crowned. 
Speak but the man, in after life renowned. 



Dear Hutson, my heart once more turns back to thee 

As scenes of boyhood days return to me— 

Back to the river's bank again I trace 

My steps, with line, to the old fishing place. 

We angle with the world in after years, 

Trembling and cautious we battle it with fears, 

While in our youth we cast a baited hook 

With joyous glee into the babbling brook, 

Watching contentedly until the bite 

To land the bass and croppie with delight ; 



AND OTHER POEMS 31 

But busy man will scarce find time to know, 

Or wander back to scenes of long ago, 

Until old age creeps 'long with silent stealth 

When first he realizes that life's wealth 

Is but contentment ! Contented will I be 

When the hour comes and Time is done with me — 

When the clouds grow dark, and the eye grows dim. 

And the Master's summon is to answer Him, 

If they'll take me back to thee, old place so dear, 

To rest 'side Him who gave my spirit here. 

0, fleeting years ! an unperceived decay 
Beckons us ever onward day by day. 
He will live best who lives the present seeing ; 
A wiser man and a happier being. 
Expectant future is to us unknown ; 
Lives happy he who calls each day his own. 
Tho' living present, we must ne'er forget 
Our days of yore, dear unto memory yet. 

THE EXHIBITION. 

All is expectancy! The nervous strain 
Is not much lessened by the six months' train. 
From the boy of six, for one of his age 
"You hardly would expect upon the stage." 



32 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 

Unto the lad of years much older grown, 

Who realizes that the world's his own, 

And thinks before few years have passed him by 

To realize his expectations high. 

Who thunders forth his eloquence in tones 

Well calculated to melt the frigid zones ; 

Bidding defiance to all laws of speech 

Save those the birch-rod master doth him teach. 

glorious youth, expectant hope! 

Well calculated with the art of speech to cope. 
In youth the world you conquer — likewise true 
In age to find the world has conquered you. 

The timid maiden with her voice so low, 
How sweet her speech, her features all aglow, 
Each had a part, some dialogues recited. 
Some had orations, and were well requited. 
These recitations of our youthful days 

1 find more winning than the modern plays. 
'Twas good McDonald, then, that played the part 
Of teacher in the terpsichorean art, 

That furnished music with his band of ten ; 
Sweet players were they, all now cherished men. 
They swayed the audience — 'tis with delight 
We recollect the music of that night. 



AND OTHER POEMS 33 

Up rolls the curtain ; bashfully steps forth 
An humble youth ; time tells his after worth ; 
And ever as the bell doth tap anew 
Another comes — greets well the audience too. 
"The Boy Stood on the Burning Deck" — while Mary 
Told well her story of the Lambkin f airie ; 
"While greater actors raised fine fierce disputes 
And seemingly about "Bombastes' boots!" 

The "Hardshell Sermon" and "Survive or Perish!" 
"Webster's Reply to Hayne" that I now cherish. 
Ah, think you o 'er in after life the part 
You played that night in fine forensic art! 
And wonder you that time will not efface 
The memory of the birch-rod master's grace. 

Then step we to that other grander stage, 

The after years — riper, maturer age. 

Look where we will, in life scan o'er and o'er, 

You see the actors of the days of yore. 

The lad who won, ' ' The night we had the spelling, ' ' 

Is sure to win in after life. No telling ! 

And he who tries, is eager to debate, 

Rules certain after in affairs of state. 

Life's exhibition and the school's the same; 

The after years but tell of birch-rod fame. 



34 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 

Then turn we aside, one pitying glance 
Tells that the after life is no romance 
But real, and well is he who struggling tries 
On earliest resources most relies. 
The envious world, vast and battling throng, 
Gives always way to him both well and strong. 
The world is ever full, but learn to know 
And dare its heights, look upward as you go. 
The steeps of Fame though proudly you ascend, 
It is through Toil that Fame her crown will lend. 
Dare you the mysteries of skillful art, 
Expect with work to take an active part ; 
Dare you gain success of any kind, be brave 

Success demands mankind almost a slave. 
No matter where, what part we take in life, 
We may expect a constant struggling strife ; 

And only he who 's best prepared, and strong, 

Will mingle in life well, and mingle long. 

Should fortune favor, frown not on the poor ; 

Go back, remember birch-rod days of yore. 

In giddy forum should you meet success, 

Remember strong the weak will oft oppress ; 

If born to rule, deal lightly with the mass ; 

Help, help the brother of the humble class. 

These lessons all in former days were taught; 

And must they perish — go with us for naught? 



AND OTHER POEMS 35 

Would he permit the strong oppress the weak, 
The high and mighty to deride the meek? 
Were not his switches ofttimes used to pay 
The tyrant youth who would oppress at play ? 
Heed then the lessons of thy youthful age, 
In thy life's play upon the after stage ; 
And learn to know, no matter what thy ways. 
Life's grandest lessons were in birch-rod days. 



36 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 



LITTLE LIGHTS. 

In the sky little lights we frequently see, 
Descending toward earth with a twinklesome glee ; 
Resplendent their course as through space they go 

dashing, 
Soon to be out — ''tis the meteor's flashing. 

They remind of the lives of little ones given 
To us here on earth, from the kingdom of heaven ; 
They bud and they blossom awhile 'round our home, 
Till the Heavenly Father bids them unto Him come. 

The pangs of the parting will be ever the same ; 
And each sorrowing tear will burn as a flame, 
To brighten the pathway of the little lives given, 
In their journey from earth to the kingdom of heaven. 



AND OTHER POEMS 37 

THE HARVEST OF DEATH. 

Ah ! harvest is ripe, and Death is around, 
Securing his victims no matter where found, 
And no greedier gatherer ever was known 
Of the seeds of destruction, his agents have sown. 
Not choice in his victims, not caring at all, 
He sweeps down the line and gathers them all. 
The young and the old, the rich and the poor, 
Death gathers alike and brings to his door. 

He touches — all fall; 

They come at his call ; 
And he is but waiting to gather them all. 

The sick and the weary, distressed and forlorn; 

The gay and the merry, the proud 'st e'er born ; 

The haughty and great, all lying in state, 

He conquered by the same inevitable fate. 

Nor wants he their lands, cares less for their gold : 

Death is no miser, tho ' grasping his hold ; 

And his eye seem'd to twinkle while he cast with a 

laugh 
Their worldly possessions, like wind does the chaff. 

He touches — they fall ; 

All come at his call ; 
And he is but waiting to gather them all. 



38 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 

Men striving and toiling from the time of their birth, 
Depriving themselves of the luxuries of earth j 
While neighbors, more lavish, build castles and revel 
On the sins of this world, not unlike the devil. 
Still others, ambitious for fame and renown, 
Work body and mind till well broken down. 
With hard striving statesman for temporal power, 
Death touches each one ere the realizing hour. 

He touches — they fall ; 

All come at his call; 
And he is but waiting to gather them all. 

And I sigh'd as I thought how Death gathers them in ; 
' Tis the penalty paid for man 's primitive sin. 
Then be cheerful and happy, altho' you be nigh, 
Cross bravely Death's river when the time comes to 

die; 
P'or do not the merry, light-hearted and gay, 
Make more out of life as they pass on their way? 
Then do not have fear of an impending fate — 
Postpone never happiness until 'tis too late. 

For all come at his call; 

When Death touches, we fall. 
And he is but waiting to gather us all. 



AND OTHER POEMS 39 

THE FELON'S SOLILOQUY. 

Yes, I have killed him! And in bending low, 

Rifling pockets, I saw his life 's blood flow 

Then stood aghast ! For who can tell the sorrow 

Even a life-long criminal will borrow 

At sight of deed so cruel. Woe is me ! 

Outcast ! Outlaw ! Where 'er on earth to flee ! 

Quick ! Let me go ! The very stillness of night 

Makes doubly dread even a felon 's flight ! 

And blood-leeches will soon be on my track, 

Hounding, pursuing, soon to drag me back. 

Where shall I fly ? Is there no safety left 

To one of law 's protection now bereft ? 

Flee where I may, the lightning tracks my path 

And justice scents my trail with pent-up wrath. 

Hark ! Ere the gray of morning 's dawn, I fear 

The sleuth-hounds will have trailed me and be near. 

Surrender ! Never ! I will fast retreat 

Back to the lonely swamps — for life is sweet. 

• ' Throw up ! " List ! See ! Now they surround me fast. 

I yield — for in these times escape is past. 

For even one, who hath law offended oft 

Of God and man, and at man 's nature scoffed ! 

But tracked and trailed, like a wild beast of prey, 

I, felon, bend before the law's dread sway! 



40 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 

Oh, fate, thrice wretched ! Henceforth in this cell 
Remorse is mine, so bitter none can tell ! 
Behind the prison wall, a sin-cursed Cain, 
Fettered in irons, bound in prison chain ! 
Aye, never more to breathe a breath that 's free — 
In sorrow waiting for the gallows tree ! 
Ah ! "We have felt the silent tear of time 
Steal down the careworn, hardened face of crime. 
Ah, crime ! Foul crime ! Thou hast indeed to grief 
Brought all thy followers, and thy course is brief ! 
Methinks at times, thy seed is bred in man, 
And curse the fate that brought us in thy van 
To dire destruction ! yet, we oft neglect 
Best feelings of our conscience, and reflect 
Not until the deed is done. Ill-fated born, 
Flee from the path of sin, ere you, forlorn, 
Fill some prison cell, or a felon 's grave ! 
Fear laws of God and man and thyself save 
Respect, as well as fear, for they alone 
Bring peace on earth and happiness our own. 



AND OTHER POEMS 41 



WHEN FORTUNE FROWNS. 

The world's a cold sympathizer, when once dame for- 
tune turns 

Her smiling face and frowns upon us. Poverty then 
burns! 

Cast then thyself upon its mercy, asking only bread, 

If friendless and alone, a stone you will be given in- 
stead. 

Who cares for distress? There are few who care to 

trouble o'er 
The needs of others. E 'en waves will cast dismantled 

ship ashore. 
The sorrow of an unfortunate one is but a drop 
In the broad ocean of this earth, that causes few to 

stop. 

Aye, busy, bustling humanity! Thou canst not stop 

to weep 
With sorrowing ones. But each day thou seek'st to 

steep 
Thyself in thine own pleasures, lusts, and pursuits for 

gain, 
Too eagerly to sympathize with one another's pain. 



42 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 

Sorrowing, misguided, misdirected human kind ! Ill- 
fated born ! 

Thou canst still retrieve adversity, still the world 
adorn! 

Work! work! thou canst not find so sure a road to 
happiness — 

Poverty will then banish, with its kindred care distress. 

"My father worketh and I work" — graceful tribute 

given 
To work, by Him who labored once on earth — now 

rules in Heaven. 
Let then thy life's pleasure be thy life's work, for it 

will tell 
In time's long race of years, if what thou doest, thou 

dost well. 



AND OTHER POEMS 43 



KEATS. 

A flower that blossomed only with the night ! 
Rare and resplendent, 'twill in beauty glow, 
To dazzle and delight, and sweetness throw — 

For out the darkness comes the glow of light. 

Genius! Thou'rt a name ever to beam bright, 
And yet art coy and timid, till we know 
When one offends or proffers thee a blow, 

Thou shrink 'st involuntarily from the sight. 

From this vale of darkness, with tale half told, 
Borne was Endymion ! Blessed now above 

With kindred spirits ever to repose ! 

High on the steep of fame his name enrolled. 
He sleeps Endymion 's sleep ! A Father 's love- 

An angel sent him from this world of woes. 



44 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 



THE MOCKING-BIRD. 

A little gray bird flew in our oak tree, 
Caroling sweetly, brother, come — see ! 
1 wonder his name ! I '11 list to his song ! 
I think I may tell as he warbles along ! 

Jay, Jay, jay, 

Ha, ha, hey ! 
Whoever heard, altho ' note is quite true — 
Of a jay-bird in dress, and feathers not blue ! 

Gay, dashing fellow ! How sprightly you sing ; 
Warbling the note of the blue-bird of Spring ; 
Aye ! bounding aloft swift as an arrow — 
Unless I mistake — 'tis the song of the sparrow; 

Whip-poor-will, whip-poor-will;— 

Oh, how shrill! 
Cruel bird ! I think you so silly — 
Whoever knew of a bird whipping Willie ? 

Birdie, elated thy song I admire, 

Tis soft as the strains of the harp or the lyre, 

I wonder — Ah ! what a beautiful note 



AND OTHER POEMS 45 

Is coming again from thy exquisite throat : 

Caw, caw, caw, 

La, la, la ! 
Indeed, little bird, do you not know — 
You cannot deceive me to call you a crow. 

Glorious song-bird, with voice like a lute ; 
Now piping away in tones of the flute ; 
how I love thee ! Birdie so free, 
Exulting in thy song-mimicry; 

Mew, mew, mew, 

Ho, ho, you ! 
Never mind birdie, I will have none of that — 
You think to delude me to call you a cat! 

Like the red-bird you whistle ; coo like the dove ; 
Of all the bird-songsters the daintiest love ; 
The shrill note of the hawk ; chirp of the wren ; 
Imitate all the birds in our glen ; 

Bob White, Bob White, 

Birdie, how bright! 
You think, mimic bird, as other ways fail, 
To get little Miss to call you a quail. 

My sweet, pretty bird, I'll no longer refrain, 
Wonderful fellow ! A name you disdain ! 



46 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 

Mock-bird, I'll call thee! Ruler of Song! 
Happiest bird 'mongst all the gay throng ; 

Kildeer, kildeer, 

That note is queer ! 
Mocking-bird, talking-bird, with song melody- 
Welcome, thrice welcome, our old oaken tree ! 



AND OTHER POEMS 47 



MY FLORIDA. 



I would love to go where the sun shines bright. 
When the wintry winds make cold the night ; 
When earth is chilled by a shivering blast 
From the cheerless clouds, the skies o'ercast: 

When the leaves are gone, and the trees look bare 
With weeping branches from the sleet they wear ; 
When the ice has covered the streams and rills, 
And grass lies hidden 'neath snow-clad hills. 

Where the birds have flown I would love to go, 
To a land of verdure where 's no snow, 
To a land of springtime, birds and flowers, 
With babbling brooks and shady bowers. 

Where the fig trees bear and the oranges blow ; 
Lemons ripen and bananas grow ; 
All nature's blooming and the birds are gay — 
0, loveliest land — My Florida! 



48 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 



LINGERING AT THE GRAVE. 

There are those who lonely linger 'round the silent, 

green-turfed grave 
Of some dear beloved departed, whom the angels loving 

crave 
For the spirit world above us, pure and spotless as 

the snow, 
Where no sin can ever enter; where there is no pain 

or woe. 
But the sorrowing tears they mingle with the lifeless 

dust of earth, 
And the silent prayers they utter, show us there is 

no dearth 
Of deep, sad and bitter sorrow for the loved ones far 

away, 
Gone to seek the bright to-morrow of our life 's eternal 

day. 

They are weeping for belov'd ones, and they feel the 

pain and sting 
Of that last sad, tearful parting, which death's chill 

will ever bring ; 
Yet still there is one solace. 'Tis the promise that is 

given— 



AND OTHER POEMS 49 

With them very soon they'll mingle in that kingdom 

we call Heaven. 
And although they love to linger, and still wish them 

with us here, 
And will sit and sigh, and sorrow at the grave, the 

pall, the bier — 
They will smile with joy and gladness, for their spirit's 

only flown 
To a purer realm of brightness — for God ever claims 

His own. 

And they love to watch sweet flowers, and the daisies 

in the spring 
Burst upon this world so brightly, 'round the lonely 

grave to cling ; 
And the shadows of the flowers as they fleeting pass 

away, 
Tell the story of our being — earthly things must soon 

decay. 
Yet the spirit ever lives, and seeks a world of joy and 

light, 
And the Father ever kindly gives us his effulgence 

bright, 
To show our earthly pathway, if we will follow in 

His lead. 
Death is but a precious solace— if the living only heed. 



50 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 

Let them linger, linger, linger, till the last sad tear has 
flown 

For the spirit-souls immortal, 'round our heavenly 
Father's throne; 

Till the peeping stars of nightfall, in the distant heav- 
ens above, 

Softly shed their glimmering beauty o'er the objects 
of their love. 

Let them linger, linger, linger, till the aching heart- 
throbs cease, 

And the weary mind shall slumber ever dreamily in 
peace ; 

It is not long until the hour when their spirit, too, 
shall rise, 

There again to meet with loved ones in that home 
beyond the skies. 



AND OTHER POEMS 51 



THE TRAIN. 

Hear the train ! 

It comes again. 
TraA^elers, hurrying to and fro, 
Wait impatiently to go 
On their journey, near or far, 
Snugly housed in palace car. 
Mile-posts past them quickly blend, 
Swift they reach their destined end. 
The homeward journey's safely made, 
The business man to place of trade. 

Flying train, 

Speed on thy way again ! 

Hear the train ! 

Thundering on again- 
Wonderful its rapid gait, 
Moving millions' worth of freight, 
Bearing on the golden grain, 
Reaped on fertile western plain; 
Carrying trade from distant shore, 
Earth 's productions to our door ; 



52 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 

Speed them on ; all nations bind, 
Showering blessings on mankind. 

Useful train, 

Speed on again ! 

Hear the train 

Dash on again ! 
Begrimed with coal the fireman stands ; 
Grasping the reins with strong firm hands. 
The engineer, thro' rain and sleet, 
Bravely drives his engine neat. 
Ah ! in thy care, brave knights of train, 
The lives of countless souls remain. 
Noble thy task and fearless done, 
True hearts, no braver 'neath the sun. 

Speed, gallant train, 

Through storm and rain. 

Flashing train, 

Speed on again! 
Greatest blessing giv'n to man, 
Civilization in thy van. 
Ah ! thy wheels we gladly hail, 
Carrying merchandize and mail. 
Miles are multiplied each hour, 
Thro' thy wonder-working power; 



AND OTHER POEMS 53 



And distance — once a king so great, 
Like time, thou now dost subjugate. 

Glorious train, 

Speed on again ! 



54 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 

THE TREE AND THE ROSE. 

One day boasting, 
An Oak-Tree said 

Unto a Brier-Rose, 
With low-bent head : 

' ' Barns and bridges 
Are built of me ; 
Towns and cities — 
I'm a useful tree. 

"You a Brier-Rose, 
Are of little use — 
To the busy world 
A mere excuse ! ' ' 

' ' Sir, ' ' said Brier-Rose, 
' ' Happy the hours, 
Seeing Fair-One 
Gather my flowers. 

"Wreathes of roses, 
Buds on the stem, 
Lovely garlands 
I give to them." 



AND OTHER POEMS 55 

The giant tree — 

The boasting Oak, 
Soon lay fell'd 

By woodman's stroke. 

But the little Rose 

Still grows each year, — 
Her fragrant flowers 

To the world so dear. 

So, isn't it best 

Quite oft to be 
A Brier-Rose 

Than a boasting-tree? 



56 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 

THE CROSS, ILL-NATURED MAN. 

Roam, roam the wide world over, 

Search every corner well; 
Go, go, my winsome rover, 

Search every nook and dell ; 
And then come back and tell me, 

In all thy wanderings 'round, 
Among earth's vilest species, 

Can any one be found 
That can compare for meanness 

With a cross, ill-natured man ? 
The rover smiled in meekness : 

In places where I scan, 
In my wanderings 'round, 

He is the meanest of earth's clan. 

The spider stings with poison ; 

The scorpion unto death ; 
The flea doth tickle o 'er our leg ; 

The ghost doth take our breath. 
Oh ! you cross, ill-natured man ; 

"With snarling, snapping features ; 
You are the leader of the van, 

The meanest of earth's creatures. 
You hurt our finer feelings ; 



AND OTHER POEMS 57 

With your scowl and with your scold ; 
The day so warm and sunny — 

You make both chill and cold : 
Should anyone seem funny 

You pierce them like a dart. 

Should any one seem loving 

It breaks your jealous heart. 
The pretty, prattling children, 

Into a corner shy; 
Of chilling words, so 'f raid are they, 

Whenever thou art by. 
Your home is made so wretched 

That all do dread thy gaze ; 
In everything thou art finding fault 

In many hundred ways. 
Thy favorite dog thou scoldest; 

Thy wife and children too, 
And when they plead for mercy 

Thou scarest them from thy view ; 
And all are glad, when you are gone, 

To rid themselves of you. 

Ah! well thou said'st, my rover, 
In all thy wanderings 'round, 
I u searching this world over 



58 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 

No one thing could be found 

That can give to us such torture, 
That can give to us such pain, 

As — as this living creature — 
A cross, ill-natured swain. 

Now, should any of our readers 
Be ill-naturedly inclined, 

I trust they will immediately 
Do penance till they find 

The greatest blessing of this earth- 
Is a sweet contented mind. 



AND OTHER POEMS 59 



THE ORATOR. 

Sweet silver tongue ! 'Tis with delight 
We listen to thy power and might 
In tones deep, ringing, soft and clear ; 
When voicing justice and the right 
Thou It never fail man 's heart to near. 

Aye, magic voice ! Refined, polite — 
Deeds bold and daring canst incite : 
Or bring the eye at will to tear — 
Sweet silver tongue. 

Art consummate ! Thy lofty flight, 
Will unto thee at all times plight 
All lovers of pure speech who hear:— 
True eloquence at dazzling height 
Is ever to mankind most dear — 
Sweet silver tongue. 



60 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 



WOULD YOU ATTAIN TO GREATNESS. 

Would you attain to greatness, 

In any living sphere, 
And leave a never-dying name, 

You must always persevere. 
Let not the clouds of darkness 

Enshroud you in their gloom, 
But battle bravely onward, 

Battle to the tomb. 

When sorrows hover o 'er you, 

And life seems dark and drear, 
Press onward, these regardless, 

And always have good cheer : 
For no end was e'er accomplished 

By the desponding one. 
Remember, all's not darkness, 

The night gives way to morn. 



Would you a warrior be, 
With never-dying fame ; 

For thy heroic greatness 
Leave an everlasting name 



AND OTHER POEMS 61 

You must go and battle bravely, 

Have never, never fear, 
And when the danger's greatest 

Bring all thy powers to bear. 

Yes, in the hour of conflict, 

When danger threatens most, 
And Death's dread missiles 'round you fall, 

Be firm — still at thy post, 
For 'tis never the faint-hearted 

Who win in any strife ; 
But with will and courage true 

You will win throughout this life. 



62 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 



WHAT IS FAME? 

And what is Fame ? 

A dazzling name, 
Like a meteoric star ; 

A moment on 

And then 'tis gone, 
Away, away so far. 

Aye, who can tell, 

"What work, and well, 
Will bring it in our grasp ? 

Like melting snow, 

' Tis quick to go, 
Ere mortals can it clasp. 

Man 's never still, 

But ever will — 
Ambition his desire — 

Seek for a name ; 

To court proud Fame, 
Alone he will aspire. 



AND OTHER POEMS 63 

Still, life's made bright, 

Like new-born light, 
That doth each morning shine ; 

And toiling man 

Will plan and plan 
In search for Fame divine! 



64 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 



LOVE'S ARROWS. 

Treacherous thy arrows, Love, 

Poisonous thy darts ; 
"We place them in our quivers, Love, 

Forgetting broken hearts ; 
You bid us be in welcome, Love, 

We blindly, madly sing; 
Hope 's sweetest smile is with us, Love, 

Till thou thy arrows fling. 

You play, you fondle, with your prize, 
Led captive by thy love ; 

You tease, torment us, with thine eyes- 
Sweet starlights like above ! 

We thy caresses glad embrace, 
Not fearful of thy sting ; 

We yield to beauty and thy grace, 
Till thou thy arrows fling. 

Yet seek we for thy arrows, Love, 

And gather, o'er and o'er, 
Thy smarting, stinging, piercing darts, 

Forgetting those of yore. 



AND OTHER POEMS 65 

What would life be without them, Love ? 

We'll to them always cling; 
Trust to thy graciousness, Love, 

Till thou thy arrows fling. 



66 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 

IN FANCY DREAMING. 

You may muse in fancy dreaming, 

But the Real will appear ; 
Bright the rainbow-colors seeming, 

Yet the clouds are always near. 

But altho' the storm-clouds gather, 
They will quickly pass away : 

And the gloomiest of life's weather 
Brings the most effulgent day. 

And 'tis folly to be losing 

Time that's given us by our God; 

But be tireless, faithful using 
Till we lie beneath the sod. 

' Tis a debt that you are owing 
To the Giver of your life, 

To be up and ever doing- 
Ceaseless is the appointed strife ! 

Quit thy dreams! and go with feeling, 

Go with joy into the sea 
Of life 's duties, ever dealing 

With a heart both light and free ! 



AND OTHER POEMS ^7 

OLD AGE. 

Old Age, we thee abhor ! 
Stay off! For we deplore 
The time which will us bring 
Unto thee an offering ! 

Thy scythe ! An emblem bright ! 
Plainly we see as night 
Of age creeps unawares, 
Till thy grim visage stares ! 

Aye, still how true, and yet 
How many will forget 
Each momient, hour and day, 
Presses us on thy way ! 

Like a rudderless ship tost, 
On Time 's waves, all are lost ; 
Death will our pathways sweep 
Mortals — we only weep ! 

At our journey's end 
Silvered by years, we bend, 
Infirm, at thy decree ; 
Reach unknown eternity. 



68 . BIRCH-ROD DAYS 



TO MY WIFE. 

ON OUR TWENTY-FIRST ANNIVERSARY. 

Swiftly the years go by, 

' Tis one and twenty now 
Since you, my wife, and I, 

Took each a lasting vow : 
Through life to journey without fear 
And be unto each other dear. 

Our spring of life is o 'er ; 

Our summer's sun, once bright, 
Shines on us now no more; 

But autumn brings delight : 
For we can reap the harvest's yield 
And garner from a fruitful field. 

Life's winter soon we'll near, 

But we will happy be ; 
For I shall have no fear, 

Since thou wilt be with me : 
And in the time of my decline 
My comfort is thou wilt be mine. 



AND OTHER POEMS 69 

The sun effulgent gleams 

At dawning of the day ; 
But more in beauty beams 

As evening fades away : 
And in the evening of our life 
Thou 'It be to me the dearest wife 



70 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 



OUR COUNTRY HOME. 

Fondly I prize my country home, 

And ever loved it dearly ; 
No other place, where 'er I roam, 

Time passes half so cheerly ; 
The morning birds break forth in song 

And sing to me so early, 
With roses blooming summer long, 

Fed by the dew so pearly. 

The lilacs blossom by the gate, 

Birds twitter in their bowers ; 
While golden maples, old and great, 

Brush purple-tinted flowers ; 
Old 's the orchard, with fruit and vine ; 

And oak trees on our lawn, 
With swing, where happy children, mine, 

Make glad the morning's dawn. 

Here fragrant blooms the old pear tree; 

Pure white's the plumwood's blossom; 
Home ladened wings the honey-bee, 

Her treasures from earth 's bosom. 



AND OTHER POEMS 71 

The Hiocking-bird with joyful notes, 

Gladdening the woodland's ring, 
With mimic song of warbling throats, 

Sweet harbingers of spring. 

Happily here I spend my days, 

With wife and children dearie, 
Life's sunshine doth dispel the haze, 

And we're content and merry. 
' Tis ever dear unto the heart, 

Its pleasures are not glary ; 
Yet health and strength it doth impart, 

Its joys I would not vary. 



72 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 



BETTER THAN GOLD. 

Blessed children with hearts bold, 

What is better far than gold? 

Health and strength, two things grand, 

Coming from His loving hand, 

Are of value more ten fold — 

Better, better far than gold. 

Faith in God, and Charity, 
Are two branches of a tree, 
Of a Wisdom Tree from Heaven, 
Tree of Knowledge from God given ! 
Keep its teachings as you're told — 
You'll be richer far than gold. 

Learn a little from this life, 
Man is mortal, 'tis a strife ; 
And that strife should ever be 
Few are chosen, select are ye! 
Work for God, with courage bold, 
' Twill be better far than gold. 



AND OTHER POEMS 73 

Earthly riches, worldly wealth, 
Which may leave us as by stealth ; 
Grandeur, glory, pomp of power ; 
Fancied visions of the hour, 
Are in life a fleeting show, 
And auite valueless we know. 



74 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 



IDLE-WHILES. 

See the idle moments fly, 
Who can save them, you and I ? 
We can use them, too, with grace, 
We can mould them into place; 
Change them into sunny smiles — 
Idle moments — idle-whiles ! 

Hear the moments as they fly ! 

Catch them ! as they pass you by : 

You can make them serve you well, 

Better far than I can tell ! 
Never let one you beguile — 
Idle moment — idle-while ! 



Feel the moments as they go, 
Quickly passing — never slow! 
They can make you happy hours 
By their wonder-working powers ! 
Can you lose and reconcile 
Idle moment — idle-while? 



AND OTHER POEMS 75 

Whiling moments as they flee ; 
Whiling time agreeably ; 
Whiling time in reverie ! 
Who will ever us revile, 

May I ask you, with a smile, 

Should we lose one after while ? 



76 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 



THE TWILIGHT SHADES. 

The twilight shades of night appear, 

As I sit silent, lonely here, 
Watching the rifting clouds on high 

Swiftly passing each other by. 
The fitful stars shine out so bright, 

As nature dons her robes of night; 
' Tis time for weary eyes to close 

In sleep— kind Nature's sweet repose. 

The low, sad chirp of insect wail, 

Alone doth cheerless hours regale, 
Save ripplings from yon babbling brook, 

That greet me in this quiet nook. 
All Nature's still! The weary borne 

To peaceful rest from cares till morn ; 
And hushed in the stillness of the night 

Are all the busy sounds of light. 

I fancied in yon peeping star 
A home for beings, tho' afar, 

Who now are free from sin and vice 
And dwell with God in paradise. 



AND OTHER POEMS 77 

I saw in vision 's viewless space, 

Spirit forms of a blissful race, 
Who trod of yore the unseen way 

That leads to life's eternal day. 

Eternity ! endless years ! 

Shall mortal fear thee ! Bauish fears ! 
Put trust in Him who gave to thee 

A soul to save for eternity. 
Time rolls along, intent to claim 

Alike the youth and man of fame. 
Earth 's but a season to begin 

To save the soul once lost in sin. 

And as I dreamed, 'way sped the night, 

"With nickering moon and starry light : 
Emblem of death ! when 'neath the sod 

We wait the coming of our God. 
So, as the night gives way to morn, 

We'll to undying life be born ; 
The dawn of lovely morning bright 

Is emblem of the world of light. 



78 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 



THE BATTLE-FLAG. 

Battle-Hag, glittering in sunlight and gold, 

On each starry crest of thy swelling fold 

The name o£ an hundred battles told. 

Recall the glories, O comrade, when 

It wav 'd on the field o 'er a thousand men, 

While we marched to the field of battle ; then 

This flag of ours was new, 

With its silvery stars, on a field of blue, 

And bright, broad stripes commingling, too. 

Omen of victory ! to us unfold 
Scenes of thy carnage as yet untold — 
Deeds of thy warfare, brave and bold. 
Read and rehearse with blinding tears 
The valor and courage of volunteers — 
Gather the trophies for coming years— 
Who gave their lives in the cause of right 
And march 'd to the front in gallant fight, 
Led by our flag of red, blue and white. 

Hail ! noble flag, with thy battle scars ! 
Glorious blending of immortal stars ! 



AND OTHER POEMS 79 

Grand old souvenir of our wars! 
Oft hast thou gladden 'd the soldier 's life 
On struggling fields when battles rife, 
Rainbowing the clouds of deadly strife. 
And now that the storm of war has fled, 
Bespangl'd banner of blue, white and red, 
May thy mem'ry ever bright luster shed. 



80 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 



THE TEMPLAR. 



Gaily bedight, the gallant Knight 

Comes charging o 'er the mead ; 
His shining lance doth me entrance, 

As well his dashing steed. 
O Knight of old, on charger bold, 

Thou 'It never suffer loss, 
All know thy fame, and prize thy name, 

You wear the Sacred Cross ! 

In the cause of Right thou wast a Knight — 

Child of humility — 
And battled brave, God's land to save, 

With great ability. 
Fervent thy zeal, for Christian weal 

Thou hast been battling long ; 
And holy sod, by the will of God, 

You've rescued from the wrong! 

Take up thy shield, and thy sword wield 

In honor of the just ; 
Religion's view, the Christian's too, 

Is now thy sacred trust ; 



AND OTHER POEMS 81 

The orphan's name, the maiden's fame, 

The lonely widow 's part, 
To thy defense, thence bravely hence, 

Go ! Valorous thou art ! 

brothers all, come at his call; — 

Around the sacred throne, 
Let us invite each gallant Knight, 

To sacrifice his own ; 
For the Lord above, who will us love, 

As we fall in His line ; 
The Great we praise, will all us raise — 

"We conquer in this Sign ! 

Gaily bedight, O gallant Knight, 

Charging o 'er the mead ; 
Thy shining lance doth still entrance, 

As well thy dashing steed ! 
And Knight of old, on charger bold, 

Thou 'It never suffer loss, 
The God above will ever love, 

"Who wears His Sacred Cross ! 



82 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 



FEIBNDSHIP'S DISEASE. 

A disease to friendship quite fatal, 

No matter how strong the tie be, 
Is little dislikes ; gradual decay ; 

Slight causes very trifling to see. 

The angry in time we may reconcile ; 

The injured we can compensate: 
Those who refuse all desire to be pleased, 

Friendship will never rejuvenate. 

Like frosts of the Autumn that wither the rose, 
Scatter its leaves, the branches make bare ; 

The chill of distrust which silently grows, 
Friendship of life will ever impair. 



AND OTHER POEMS 83 



MOCKING-BIRD AND JAY. 

One sum m er's day 

A saucy jay 
Said to a mocking-bird : 

"In handsome blue, 

I'm gayer than you, 
Greatly to be preferred ! 

" I 've a royal crest, 

And fine blue vest, 
Feathers of richest hue ! 

I daily spat, 

And social chat, 
Gaily with neighbors too ! ' ' 

Your royal crest, 

And fine blue vest, 
Feathers of richest hue ! 

Are very fine, 

Much more than mine, 
I grant that all to you ! 



84 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 

' ' But, coxcomb bold, 
Loquacious scold— 

Given to aspersion ! 
There's scarce a bird, 
' Mong all I 've heard, 

Hath not for thee aversion. 

' ' Aye, bird so gay, 
Let me this say, 

Known I am by my song ; 
Where'er I fly 
Welcome am I — 

Not so your finical throng. ' 



AND OTHER POEMS 85 



REJECTED. 



There is no word that one can find 
That gives more anguish to the mind, 

Though each word be inspected, 
As this one, crudest of its kind — 
Rejected. 

To man who earns his daily bread, 
Each day doth labor without dread, — 

Life's hardships hath suspected; 
Could more remorseless word be said- 
Rejected ! 

For are not all men here below, 
Entitled to some little show 

In life to be protected ? 
How cruel then must be the blow — 
Rejected ! 

Inhuman word ! Where 'er thou art, 
You wound the aching, sobbing heart, 

Who with life 's cares dejected 
Doth sorrow underneath thy smart — 
Rejected ! 



86 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 

FAIL NOT. 

Fail not, my Child, whose pathway's sown 
"With fortune's smiles and flowers, 

To help the poor less-favored one 
Beguile the weary hours. 

And fail not, Man, throughout this life, 

To do what good you can; 
The struggle's long, and fierce the strife, 

Help then thy fellow-man! 

Mother, fail not thy child to raise, 

Who will this world control, 
To sing of Him in songs of praise — 

The giver of his soul. 

Father, thy son fail not to teach 
"When first young life buds forth ; 

Life's highest stations he may reach, 
Success the effort's worth. 

Ah, some may search but fail to find 

The ladder-rounds of fame ; 
But none need fail to leave behind 

A pure and spotless name. 



AND OTHER POEMS 87 

CUPID AND DEATH. 

Cupid, the God of Youth and Love, 

Weary of play and faint with heat, 
Wandering down into Death's Grove, 

Into his grotto beat retreat. 

Beautiful darts as ever graced, 

Sent from the angel world above, 
Cupid had in his quiver placed — 

Piercing arrows of Youth, and Love. 

Down on the floor, in careless haste, 
Cupid thought there to rest him well ; 

The lovely arrows therein placed 
Soon from their shining quiver fell; 

And scattered o'er his cave, pell-mell, 
Death had arrows of exquisite make : 

Cupid, waking, could never tell 

His own from Death's, or which to take. 

Death's darts with Love, and Love's with Death, 
Were now mingled in luckless ruth ; 

Tho' sweet sometimes, the poisonous breath 
Of grim Death is not good for Youth ! 



S BIRCH-ROD DAYS 

And since that day Love has been blind 

Seemingly, to every fate ; 
And Love is now to Death resigned, 

Often choosing him for a mate. 

And Death has kissed Love's young and old, 

No matter how timid or shy : 
Death since with Youth is very bold, 

And never passes Love by. 



AND OTHER POEMS 89 

THE FELON'S DREAM. 

Slumbering I lay in prison cot, 

In peaceful dreams, all woes forgot. 

Repose ! How sweet ! 'Twas scarcely marred 
By heavy tramp of prison guard. 

Back to my home in dreams I went ; 

Back to the place I childhood spent ; 
Mingling there in merriest glee 

Again with those so dear to me. 

I clasped in fond embrace once more 
A mother 's form ! Heard her implore 

In bitter anguish, God to spare 
A truant son — an only care ! 

Friendly faces were gathered around, 

Welcoming home a lost one found; 
I had resolved to quit my sin — 

I felt a change of heart within ! 

It was a dream — and when I 'woke 

The walls of prison on me broke ; 
I felt to dry a felon's face 

Saddest, dreariest of his race ! 



90 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 

I said : ' ' This cruel fate seems hard ! ' ' 
' Twas only mocked by tramp of guard. 

Cruel 's the pang ! Deep is the sting ! 
A lonely cell to felons bring ! 

Deal not harshly ! Speak not ill ! 

Fate was 'gainst him — 'gainst him still; 
Who sleeps behind this prison wall: — 

There's none so strong but what may fall. 



AND OTHER POEMS 91 



SWEET LADY, I LOVE THY FAIR FACE. 

Sweet lady, I love thy fair face, 

And wish, oh wish, that it were mine ; 

For beauty, form, and lovely grace 
Is now, and ever will be thine ! 

The night with lowering clouds and dark 
Has beauteous flashings in the sky; 

But e'en the brilliant lightning's spark 
Will not match the luster of thine eye ! 

And yet, sweet lady, kind and true, 

Why I adore thy lovely face, 
I seek the rose in morning's dew, 

Alone pure innocence to trace. 

God has implanted in our breast 

A love for all that's pure ; 
Life 's pleasures man may go in quest — 

Alone doth matchless woman lure. 



92 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 



THE SUNNY SOUTHERN HOME. 

I ever love to see 

The sweet magnolia tree 
Dance its leaves in the breezes of the morn ; 

Where the sun will ever glow, 

And gentle zephyrs blow 
'er the fields of the cotton and the corn. 

' Tis nature's sweet retreat, 

Where lovers gladsome meet; 
Daisies in the springtime there first come; 
'And the ever-blooming rose 

Is free from wintry snows, 
In the dear old sunny southern home. 

You wander where you will, 

Its memory ever still 
Will cling to your heart as you roam ; 

For birds are ever gay 

In sweetly singing lay, 
In the dear old sunny southern home. 



AND OTHER POEMS 93 

And the true hearts we there find 

Will ever us remind, 
There is on earth no other dome, 

So dear to every heart, 

Compelled from there to part,. 
As the dear old sunny southern home. 



94 BIECH-ROD DAYS 



MINE, ONLY MINE. 

Wilt thou not be my dearest, 

As we journey down life's stream; 
And be to me the nearest, 

My fondest hope and dream? 
Oh, tell me that you love me, 

And be forever mine ; 
By the Heavens above thee, 

I pledge my heart to thine ! 

By the evening shadows, 

When the sun sinks in the west ; 
By the bloom of meadows, 

I will vow to love thee best ! 
Ever will I adore thee, 

True love it is divine; 
Oh, list while I implore thee, 

Be mine, only mine! 

Let others love the morning, 
With the sun and beauty's light ; 

The smile now thee adorning 
Is to me a sweeter sight. 



AND OTHER POEMS 95 

Oh, love is like a flower — 

Plucked from, the stem, it dies, 
While in its sylvan bower 

On earth naught more we prize. 



96 BIRCH-EOD DAYS 

AUTUMN LEAVES. 

See the Autumn leaves go flying, 

Flying with the swift- winged breeze; 

And the winter winds are sighing, 
Sighing to the leafless trees ! 

Hear them as they gently rustle ; 

Watch them chase each other 'round: 
They are ever in a bustle 

Dancing o 'er the green-turfed ground. 

See them in the air go sailing, 
As the whirlwind sucks them on : 
Hear them rattle, like 'twere hailing, 
Rattle, rattle on the lawn ! 

Helpless are the little leaflets ; 

To be carried soon away 
Far adown the swirling streamlets ; 

There to perish and decay. 

True in life all things must perish ; 

Ever bright the morning's dawn; 
Still, life 's fondest hopes we cherish 

Decay like leaves upon the lawn. 



AND OTHER POEMS 97 



MADIE GREEN. 

In the twilight of an evening, 

In the dear old month of June, 
When the air was filled with fragrance- 

When the roses were in bloom ; 
I met by chance a maiden, 

Fair, fair as ever was seen, 
And I loved her from that moment — 
Pretty, pretty Madie Green. 
Never was a lovelier lady, 
None fairer have I seen 
Than my little dark-eyed Madie— 
Pretty, pretty Madie Green. 

True, there is in life 's oasis, 
One sweet solace given man — 

'Tis a pure and spotless woman, 
She who all our sorrows can 

Make light as gentle zephyrs 
As they whisper to the trees, 

When the leaflets softly rustle, 
Fanned by summer's gentle breeze. 



98 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 

Never was a lovelier lady, 
None fairer have I seen 

Than my little dark-eyed Madie — 
Pretty, pretty Madie Green. 

The rose, our fairest flower, 

Where the bee will ever come, 
Gathering sweetness every hour, 

To bear unto its home — 
Will not equal pretty Madie, 
Tho' it be of loveliest hue, 
And we gather flower and leaflet 
Bathed in morning's early dew. 
Never was a lovelier lady, 

None fairer have I seen 
Than my little dark-eyed Madie — 
Pretty, pretty Madie Green. 

While now I sit in silence, 

'er other days I con, 
I remember still, with sadness, 

That summer's day now gone ; 
I remember her dark tresses ; 

Her bright and lustrous eyes ; 
But her loving, dear caresses, 



AND OTHER POEMS 99 

Most of all I highly prize. 
Never was a lovelier lady, 

None fairer have I seen, 
Than my little dark-eyed Madie— 

Pretty, pretty Madie Green. 

Still the clouds will gather o'er me, 

As I murmur this my song ; 
And I pray thee, Lord, restore me 

To the girl I Ve loved so long ; 
And when this life is ended, 

And I 'm borne away to rest, 
May my spirit there be blended 
With the one I loved the best. 
Never was a lovelier lady, 

None fairer have I seen, 
Than my little dark-eyed Madie — 
Pretty, pretty Madie Green. 



100 BIRCH-BOD DAYS 



SLEEP AND HOPE. 

When the world is dark, and all is drear, 
And there is naught to cheer us here ; 
When friends prove false, and fickle, too, 
And the things we love are dimmed to view ; 
Sweet comforter, let my weary head 
Be couched upon thy pillowy bed; 
Then waft me in ethereal dreams, 
And take me 'way from earthly themes ; 
While angel-images hover 'round, 
O peace, be mine, in sleep so sound ! 

Take, take me from this world afar, 
And thou, sweet Sleep, as guiding-star, 
Wilt thou not find some place above, 
Where all is hope, where all is love ? 
Where all is gladness, all is joy, 
And cares of life no more annoy ? 
Where man to brother can be just ? 
Where all are honest — all can trust? 
Where cheat and strife can harm no more ; 
And war's dread conflicts all are o'er? 



AND OTHEE POEMS 101 

Where fear our vision ne 'er can fright, 
And is dispelled, like day doth night ; 
All life 's imagined ills are gone, 
Unlike the sun, no more to dawn ! 
Where malice with relentless eye, 
Thirsts not to make more misery ; 
And misanthropy is not found, 
To mar our joys the season 'round, 
Making us miserable without hope, 
As vainly on with life we cope? 

Where is no sadness, that doth rend 
The heart full sore with tears, and blend 
It with despondency and despair, 
To make earth 's beings wretched as they are ? 
Where jealousy, which we oft endure, 
That rather would the sun obscure, 
Than see another enjoy its light — 
Emulous of all who seek the right — 
Is gone forever — sin-cursed mien, 
Whenever hated, wherever seen ? 

Where scorn and envy both must toil — 
Green monsters of earth's sinful soil— 
Till their necks goad blue with disdain ? 
Another's pleasure is to them pain. 



102 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 

Where pride, disdainful, cold and chill, 
Becomes subservient to our will ; 
And contempt, bitter, which doth deride, 
Is humbled like its neighbor, pride ? 
Where, changed to mercy, all may feel 
The bitter pangs they used to deal ? 

A heavenly thing, Sleep, to dream, 
And let the troubled spirit gleam 
And beam in brightness ! Shine afar — 
Since Hope is now our guiding-star ! 
Pandora, careless of man's want, 
Let from her jar life's ills, to haunt 
Our visions, pleasures, passions, joys, 
With fears, adversities, griefs, annoys. 
That follow, as through life we grope — 
The lid was closed alone on Hope ! 



AND OTHER POEMS 103 



THE TRAITOR BIRD. 

"Let me go, good Master Falconer, ' ' 

A little Quail once said; 
Who being caught within a net, 

Thought thus to save its head. 

"I will decoy some other quails, 

At least a dozen more, 
And get them safely in your net, 

If you will ope ' your door. ' ' 

"No," cried the man, "I'll not let out, 
Whate'er I might have done, 

The treacherous bird within my net ; 
The traitor shall not run ! 

' ' There is no death too hard for him 

Who will a friend betray ; 
And I'll not spare you, traitor bird, 

To live another day ! ' ' 



104 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 



THE WORLD IS COLD, SO DREARY. 

The world is cold, so dreary, 

'Few warm hearts do we find; 
Life 's path to me is weary, 

And troubled is my mind. 
Oh, I'm so sad to-day, Mary, 

Clouds hover o 'er and o 'er ; 
I think alone of thee, Mary, 

Alone thee I adore. 

I wish sometimes myself, Mary, 

In the cold, damp grave, at rest; 
Where sleeps the dead in peace, Mary, 

Calm and Heavenly blest. 
Where no taunts and jeers are heard, Mary, 

Where no foe can ever blame ; 
Where rich and poor are clothed, Mary, 

In nature's garb the same. 

I sometimes think and fear, Mary, 
There is no better world than this; 

That man who is sin-cursed, Mary, 
Can ever hope to reach bliss! 



AND OTHER POEMS 105 



But we know the Savior's promised 
If we hearken to his call, 

He will bid us welcome, enter, — 
There's room above for all. 



106 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 

THE WABASH. 

Beautiful river of Wabash, 

With thy silvery sheet of blue ; 
Ever sluggishly moving onward 

Like a panoramic view. 

While I trace thy meandering course 
From the old Town down to the bend, 

A feeling of sadness comes o'er me 
As the journey onward I wend : 

To think of the scenes of my childhood, 

Of the ones who used to stray 
Along with me down the river 's banks, 

Where now I stroll to-day. 

To watch for the landmarks of boyhood, 

And find that the river's surge 
Swept them away — like the friends of my youth, 

The winds sigh only the dirge. 

Once gaily adown thee, old river, 

In his birchen bark canoe, 
Floated the Indian warrior, 

With his maiden of dusky hue. 



AND OTHER POEMS 107 

Upon thy banks were his councils, 

Around brightly glowing fires ; 
The mossy mounds near the river 's brink — 

The graves of ancestral sires. 

The warrior has gone from thy forests, 

And his race is almost run ; 
Driven by the white men westward 

With the course of the setting sun. 

But thy grand old oaks and thy elms, 
That were once his shelter and pride,. 

Still nod to the rippling waters 
As they grow by the river's side. 

Flow on, O beautiful river ! 

Flow gently on to the sea ; 
I'll watch thy waters a little while — 

Then the Master will summon me. 



108 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 



WHO MAY SERVE WELL. 

A lion was intent on sleep, 

When o 'er his limbs a Mouse would creep ; 

Angered, he caught it with a sweep, 

And chiding, said: 
' ' Tis useless, Mouse, in tears to weep, 

I '11 strike you dead ! ' ' 

Piteously, with tearful eye, 

The mouse than made this sad reply : 

"Oh, master ! Do not let me die ! 

I can repay 
The life you spare, even I, 

The act some day ! ' ' 

Despicably small he thought him ; so, 
Laughing, the lion let him go ; 
Saying, "Mouse, I'll spare you, though 

If with my paw 
I 'd strike you just a little blow, 

I 'd crush your ja w ! " 

Shortly after, it chanced one day, 
The lion was pursuing prey. 



AND OTHER POEMS 109 

Some hunters who had come that way- 
Set nets they brought. 

The lion, bounding lithe and gay, 
Was in them caught. 

The lion, fast, set up a roar. 
Hearing, the mouse ran nimbly o'er, 
And meshes binding limbs, now sore, 

Began to gnaw ; 
From off the lion quickly tore 

With little jaw. 

Thankful, the lion, now more wise, 
Said, "Little things we oft despise, 
In after life we highly prize ; 

For none can tell, 
Simply in judging by the size, 

Who may serve well!" 



110 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 

DRONES vs. BEES. 

Once in a Nisi Prius court, 
Judge Wasp called up a case, 

A suit about some honey-comb, 
Among the insect race. 

The action was replevin, 

Some drones sued out the writ, 

Claiming both honey and the comb, 
Which the bees could not admit ; 

But pleaded property in themselves, 
And property in their queen ; 

Non cepit, non detinuit, too, 
On property had a lien. 

Each party then a jury waived, 

The issues being closed; 
To try the case before the judge, 

Both parties then proposed. 

Judge Wasp then said: "You are alike, 

In color, shape and size; 
I'll test the case by evidence, 

In manner seeming wise. 



AND OTHER POEMS 111 

I'll give unto you each a hive, 
To make new comb and cell ; 

When filled, the honey I will taste- 
Go quick and do it well ! ' ' 

The bees assented to the plan, 

And comb began to make: 
The drones kept idle, to a man, 

To work they would not take. 

' ' 'Tis plain to see, unto the bee 

The honey does belong, 
I '11 adjudge the case, upon its face, 

Unto the working throng. 

' ' For he who can not make the comb, 

The honey should not claim ; 
On every issue, bees have won;" 

Judge "Wasp then gave them same. 

'Tis thus the idle always lose, 

They're worthless, to a man ; 
If to succeed in life you choose, 

To work's the only plan. 



112 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 



DAME FORTUNE. 

O'ercome with fatigue from journey long, 

A young man, weary and tired, fell 
Quite fast asleep, on the very brink 

Of a deep and dangerous well. 
Dame Fortune, seeing the danger, said : 

"Wake up, wake up, wake up, my man!" 
And rousing him from his slumber, then 

Said, chiding, ' ' Sir, all of your clan 
Blame me quite often for troubles, when 

The folly is simply with you men ! ' ' 

"You see, the censure is thrown upon me 

By all of the human kind ; 
When in truth, I know and always see 

The most of them go it blind! 
Great calamities which them befall, 

Is folly they bring of their own ; 
Imputable to me ? Not at all, 

T wish I could make it known — 
All more or less masters are of fate, 

Must think for themselves, not on me wait ! 



AND OTHER POEMS 113 

Dame Fortune then went tripping away, 

Singing sweetly this merry song: 
' ' Men mortal, I cannot with you stay, 

Yet I'll frequently join your throng: 
Tho ' I 'm fickle as fickle can be, 

Try me ever to court and wed, 
By the use of sense and industry, 

My favors around you I'll shed: 
For those who court fortune, well should know 

The idle and vicious have no show." 



114 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 



AVARICE. 

The world is full of men who try in vain, 
Without much effort riches to obtain; 
Who risk in folly the little they possess, 
And bring themselves to penury and distress. 
Never content with what the Lord doth give, 
They 'd rather starve, than not in affluence live. 

Avarice will get us into trouble, 
When we 're too anxious wealth to double ; 
Into wealth 's door we sometimes gain ingress 
To find we've lost the little we possess: 
Becoming greedy beyond all measure, 
We lose our all seeking more treasure. 

A certain man, I read in fable old, 
Possessed a goose, that laid an egg of gold 
Each day — an income stated, all his days — 
The best of incomes — one that certain pays ; 
But dissatisfied with this fortune slow, 
He killed the goose, her treasures all to know. 



AND OTHER POEMS 115 

Within he thought a wealth of gold to see, 
But found her the same as any goose would be ; 
The man so miserly was quick to rue it, 
Forsooth he lost a fortune through it. 
Risk not thy all, lest it may go by stealth 
In vainly trying to amass great wealth. 



116 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 



TO A EOBIN. 

Sweet messenger of morning, I love well 
Thy piping notes of fitful, fervent glee ; 
Swinging aloft on topmost limb of tree ; 
Soft as flute tones thy bird-song on me fell ; 
Then like the tinkling of a distant bell 
Thy sweet notes die, and echoes come to me, 
Soothing the morning dreams delightfully, 
As rose the sun the dawn of day to tell. 
Sing, warbler, sing ! To stay is thy delight 
In shaded dells where runs the babbling brook, 
O'erhung with alder bush; where 'tis thy right 
To hide thy nest in wild-vined laurel nook ; 
When balmy spring returns with robes so bright, 
For thy song I '11 listen, for thee I '11 look. 



AND OTHER POEMS 117 



UNION IS STRENGTH. 

A family of sons a father had 
Who perpetually treated each other bad ; 
And no exhortations would take from their sire, 
But constantly gave some vent to their ire. 
Determined to illustrate the ills of dissension, 
To a bundle of sticks he called their attention, 
Then, giving the bundle to each in succession — 
"Break it!" he cried. They made no impression. 
Then out of the bundle, each a single stick took. 
' ' Break it ! " he cried. The stick easily broke. 
Then he addressed them : ' ' My sons, if you are 
United in mind, and never at war, 
Like a bundle of sticks, well bound together, 
Success of the one means success of the other. ' ' 



118 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 



IDLY-HEEDING. 

' ' Leave oft' crying, this instant, or 1 11 throw 

You out at the window, to the Wolf below ! ' ' 

' ' What ! I recognize the voice of the nurse — 

As I am hungry I might fare worse; 

What would be more excellent than a fine fat child, 

And the greedy Wolf looked up and smiled : 



Thinking the nurse as good as her word, 
To wait for the child, the Wolf preferred ; 
For the hungry Wolf had searched all that day 
In vain for food till he came that way : 
And he waited there till the day was done, 
And darkness came with the setting sun. 



As the twilight shades stole into the house, 

The lovely child was still as a mouse ; 

Save singing its lullaby sweet as a lark — 

Going to sleep with the evening dark : 

Fondling her child the nurse said in a low breath 

"If the Wolf comes now, I'll beat him to death!" 



AND OTHER POEMS 119 

But the words were caught on the dewy air 
By the Wolf, who heard them with despair ; 
Disappointed and hungry he turned to go, 
Muttering these words in accents low : 
' ' This comes by heeding those who of ttimes say 
Things they never intend, day after day-' '" 



120 BIRCH-ROD DATS 



OUR FAITHFUL SERVANTS. 

A hound, now old, but one that for his master long had 
toiled ; 

One who in his earlier days by game was never foiled ; 

Worn out by weight of years, by toil, by trouble and 
decay, 

Went with his master hunting the wild boar, joined 
in the race 

And mingled in the sports of other days, the much- 
loved chase ! 

He boldly seized the boar, and f anged it in the ear, 
When strength gave way, the boar escaped, caused by 

declining year : 
Quick to him came the master, and angry said: "111 

thrash thee!" 

The feeble dog replied : ' ' Master, 'twas but my strength 

that failed me, 
Not my will. Spare thy old servant ! Remember me of 

yore! 
Think of me as I was then, abuse not now, take pity, I 

implore ! 



AND OTHER POEMS 121 

"Oh, Master! many are the days for thee I've toiled 

when 
Thou in poverty was struggling helpless as I was 

then!" 
And faithful servants who have proven their merit 

many ways 
All should remember well, and help in their declining 

days! 



122 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 



THE DANCING KID. 

Have you ever heard of the Dancing Kid 

That strayed from the herd when its mother forbid' 

Well, it left the fold on a summer's day 

And determined to go away, away: 

Away from its home in quest of fun, 

For it was never content with the herd to run. 

But there is many a pitfall — many a snare 
To the young in life who are unaware ; 
Though brave and honest the girl or boy, 
Life's full of vices that will destroy: 
And the Dancing Kid was soon pursued 
By a great old Wolf, who him subdued. 

So there is many a victim allured by sin, 
Deeming life but short, joins the hideous din ; 
And for a passing pleasure — a fleeting show — 
Risks endless misery — eternal woe. 
The Dancing Kid, deeming life but short, 
Asked the Wolf's indulgence in a merry sport. 

' ' If you pipe — I '11 dance, ' ' said the Dancing Kid ; 
And the Wolf piped loud as he was bid ; 



AND OTHER POEMS 123 

His great jaws swelling as he blew entranced, 
While the Dancing Kid, danced and danced : 
As each sweet vibration rolled away 
The Wolf would loud and louder play. 

But the music was heard by the Dogs hard by — 

The Wolf growled these words, as he turned to fly: 

"Who steps from his way to play fool, is not wise. 

Should never wonder if he loses the prize : 

Like children who do what mothers forbid," 

A narrow escape had the Dancing Kid. 



124 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 



SPARE THE ROD AND SPOIL THE CHILD. 

I can see King Solomon, seated upon Israel 's throne, 
Rich in lands, and gold, and jewels, with everything 

his own 
That mortal man could ask or wish, that was upon the 

earth, 
That surely would be calculated to give the king great 
. mirth; 

But wonder you, King Solomon, with his humanity, 
Should exclaim, "Alas! alas! Vanity! All is vanity!" 

Seven hundred wives had Solomon, of princely high 

degree, 
I doubt if Mormon elder had more merry wives than 

he! 
But his children acted dreadfully, and worried sore 

the king, 
To whip them well all 'round each day he thought the 

proper thing ; 
"Chasten thy son while there is hope, thy soul spare 

not his crying ! ' ' 
Was a truth when Solomon wrote, perhaps there's no 

denying. 



AND OTHER POEMS 125 

While this time-honored proverb, by Israel's greatest 

king, 
Evidently was considered then quite the proper thing, 
"Correct thy son, he shall give thee rest and delight 

thy soul!" 
"The rod and reproof give wisdom!" his youth he 

might cajole, 
Not a Yankee child to-day — away such nonsense wild, 
At this ancient maxim : ' ' Spare the rod and spoil the 

child!" 

How I used to dread it, in my youthful days gone by, 
When every one would quote it, with blood right in 

their eye; 
And with a tender feeling, akin to Beelzebub, 
With a ferrule or a hazel they viciously would drub ; 
And the music of the refrain, as it floated away in air, 
Was but tears of simple childhood, which I was loath 

to bear ! 



126 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 

A MERCILESS MIND. 

Meeting a Lamb, when out walking one day, 
Knowing the Lamb from its fold was astray, 
A Wolf thus addressed him : ' ' Hear, sir ! 
You grossly insulted me last year, sir ! " 
Bleated the Lamb, in mournful suspense : 
' ' Indeed, you 're mistaken, I had not come hence. ' ' 

Then said the Wolf: "You feed on my clover, 
A thing I've forbidden you over and over!" 
Bleated the Lamb: "Your pasture's not wasted 
For clover's a thing I never have tasted." 
Again said the Wolf : "You drink from my well ; 
What the injury is I scarcely can tell." 

"Mother's milk," said the Lamb, "is my food and my 

drink ; 
I 've not drank at your well ; you 're mistaken, I think. ' ' 
"Ah," said the Wolf, "I cannot find plea 
To eat him, that seemingly justifies me ; 
Still I '11 seize him and eat him, although he refute 
Everything, thus far, to him, I impute." 



A. wicked, tyrannical, merciless mind, 
Some pretext for evil always will find. 



AND OTHER POEMS 127 



A GUEST OF THE CLUB. 

Exceedingly clever! and without any parade, 
Wonderfully expert in handling a spade 
In games, which he plays; while in wielding a club, 
No one is more daring when playing the rub ; 
Then, in playing a hand, has hearts to command: 
Few owning more diamonds than were held in his 

hand! 
He is very convincing! Cards nestle about — 
Make his acquaintance, should you have any doubt! 

In dealing the cards, with a kindly regard 

For himself, the game he will ofttimes retard ; 

And while the best of players are sitting close by, 

In a manner mysterious, tho' sly; 

Will obtain from the deck, cards almost a peck, 

Proceeding his clothes to slyly bedeck ! 

And just how, when and where, he got those two pair, 

Make the most of us secretly swear ! 

Then the bat of that eye ! Delusive and sly, 
You cannot ever catch it, nor can I ; 
'Tis convincing too late, as I witness our fate, 
That most of our lives are predestinate ! 



128 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 

Why, if some one would give us two dozen packs, 
Neither you, nor could I, get more than two jacks; 
Then, when he would call us! It would appall us 
To meet the calamity which would befall us ! 

Sad are reflections ! Many times I have wished, 
When back in disgust my chair I have pushed, 
That my eyes were not better at night — 
As I would witness some brother's sad plight ; 
For none could keep pace with four kings and an ace — 
Tho' stealing one king — a burning disgrace— 
With a flush, he said was a "sequent" — 
Which to me were amazingly frequent ! 

His raise of that blind was remarkably good, 

As I quickly discovered after I stood ! 

Then the Doctor sat down, with face all aglow — 

All doctors seem wise, even little they know — 

Business he came for, business he got, 

For the Doctor didn't know the name of the pot — 

How his eyes seemed to open, when three of a kind, 

Seemingly puzzled the medical mind ! 

There was one other who joined in a hand — 
Elegant gentleman, I feel sorry he 's strand ; 
Somewhat too certain, not having much fear; 
And for his assurance he paid very dear. 



AND OTHER POEMS 129 

It wasn 't any use ! I deplore his abuse ! 

' ' It wasn 't his night, ' ' was his only excuse ; 

Tho' our wealth was increased by his stay in the game, 

The bank 's depreciated in proportion the same. 

The fondest of hopes, like loveliest of bloom, 

Quickly passes away, and leaves you in gloom ! 

I simply relate how fortunes will flee — 

The game it was played 'twixt the fellow and me : 

Three fours on two eights, I was feeling galore ; 

Feeling quite ' ' full, ' ' tho ' not so ' ' full " as a four 

That called me:" Show down ! ' ' "While I play a good 

game, 
Four nines will beat always a "full" just the same! 

The "straits" and the "blazes" that we played that 

night ; 
And the "fulls" and the "flushes" were a laughable 

sight ; 
For the truth, I will speak it, in that little "high," 
No one kept sober, save the Doctor and I, 
To carry them home, we 'd a wagon patrol — 
First thought to go 'long, their offense to condole — 
How the Doctor did "smile" and I did wink back, 
When we sent them home "dead," quite safe in the 

hack! 



130 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 

Were you ever there 1 If you were you know how 
I record these proceedings with a feverish brow ! 
If you weren't ever there, why, best stay away, 
Is the advice of a friend, of feelings, next day. 
These cards are deluding, we sit 'neath their bowers. 
Spading away time and clubbing out hours. * 
Aching our hearts, our diamonds home sleeping, 
Till the dawn of the morning 's silently peeping. 

Lovely 's the morning — refreshing pure air ; 
The sun brightly beaming, new born, as it were ; 
But the sky may be clear, the morning serene, 
Not so I fear one who rules home as a queen. 
Oh, the thing that we dread is that gentle surprise- 
Disguising our look — from her languishing eyes ! 
Have you experience ? Aye, there is the rub 
In staying out late with ' ' A Guest of the Club. ' ' 



AND OTHER POEMS 131 



TRANSFORMATION. 

In the days of yore the gods possessed great power o 'er 

all the clan, 
They could change the bird into a beast, the beast into 

a man. 
It is said the beasts in love became, as the instance 

which I cite, 
Of a cat, that deeply fell in love, with man her fate to 

plight. 

And she besought immediately, Venus, the goddess 

old- 
Prayed to be transformed into a maid, to him her love 

unfold. 
Venus, pitying, changed her form to that of a maiden 

fair, 
With pearly teeth, and swan-like neck, and beautiful 

golden-hair. 

Then quickly she sought her lover, as maidens have al- 
ways done, 

And won him with her beauty, as the maidens have 
ever won. 



132 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 

But their honeymoon was not over nor settled in a 

place, 
When Venus said: "I've changed her form— of the 

cat is there a trace ? ' ' 

While reclining in her chamber, with her lover by her 

side, 
The lovely youth that she had won, now enamored of 

his bride — 
Venus then let a little mouse drop at the maiden's 

feet — 
She sprang from the bed in quick pursuit, intent to 

catch and eat ! 

When Venus again transformed her. "What's bred 

in the bone," she said, 
"Will ever appear in the flesh, haven't I often read?" 
"The cat, to a woman, I'll never transform — that's not 

my plan — 
Its nature I'll give to woman, — and woman I'll give 

to man." 



AND OTHER POEMS 133 



THE MAN OF DIGNITY. 

Have you never seen him as he comes with solemn pace, 
Proudly to the forum, in some important case, 
Always sitting upright, with grave and serious mien, 
Not seeming to augur usefulness— merely to be seen ? 
Giving to great occasions, both of Church and State, 
By his august presence — simply pristine weight? 

Aye, have you never seen him, sitting at the bar, 
Stroking his big whiskers, looking graver far 
Than any of his fellows, who, with jolly air, 
Find a pleasure giving him the conspicuous chair! 
Grandly he looks, majestic, while he rarely talks ; 
You discern his wisdom, as he sits or walks ? 

Ah, you have seen him, although you've never heard 
Anything of greatness ; he seldom says a word ; 
It is said, in speaking, he loses all that charm 
That gently hangs about him, and shields the man from 

harm; 
For this man of dignity can never bear the crosses 
That fall to other men, without sustaining losses. 



134 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 

He ventures few opinions, lest those opinions might 
Make his apparent wisdom become a little trite ; 
And you rarely ever see him try a hard-fought case, 
For fear his seeming dignity he might thus efface; 
But he adds a presence, and always holds the fort, 
The most pompous personage that comes before the 
court. 



AND OTHER POEMS 1R5 



VALOR. 



A beautiful Fawn once said to a Stag, 
Grown old and nrischievious, given to brag. 
Stamping his foot and shaking his head 
Causing the herd considerable dread : 
"Pray sire, are you not very large and strong' 
Possessed of horns with many a prong? 
Horns that are spreading — horns immense? 
Horns that are useful in self-defence ? 
You have wind for either a race or jog, 
You are swifter in running than the dog ; 
Then why is it, Stag ? have you such fear, 
"When you see the hound, or his baying hear ? ' ' 

' ' O lovely Fawn ! ' ' said his Stagship old, 
' ' Altho ' to my herd I seem fierce and bold, 
Altho ' I 'm vigorous and have skill, 
Resolve with the hound to grapple at will, 
To show my courage, and in future strife 
Gore deeply the hound and take his life ! 
Demonstrate now and for all future time 
Courage and valor while in my prime. 
Ah ! so soon as I hear the sound of his voice 



136 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 

Seemingly there is left no other choice ; 
My spirits fail, I cannot tarry me, 
Off I go fast as my legs can carry me. ' ' 

Argument to cowards no courage e'er gave- 
Reason alone convinces the brave. 



AND OTHER POEMS 137 



POLLY, YOU TALK TOO MUCH. 

Polly was a bird well trained to talk, 

Could mimic a whistle— anything mock; 

Would scream at a dog ; yell at the cat : 

Away went Pussy when Poll cried ' ' Scat ! ' ' 

The dog would go at her words: "Come here!" 

' ' Clear out, you rascal ! ' ' would run thro ' fear. 

But a spaniel dog, whose name was Mudge, 

Was going down street with a stately trudge ; 

When Poll, on Mudge thinking a trick to play, 

Spoke these words in a jocular way: 

"Sic her, Mudge! Sic her!" as he passed her by- 

"Sic, you rascal, Sic" — then turned to fly. 

Mudge turned like a flash, as might be inferred, 
And wiped the earth with that saucy bird. 
It seemed that Poll would not hold together, 
Or quit the fight with a single feather : 
Tho ' Mudge ran off when Poll cried ' ' Get out ! " 
The life of the parrot was one of doubt. 

Then hobbling up on some steps of stone, 
With a bleeding wing and a broken bone ; 



138 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 

She mused to herself, as well she might, 
Regarding her conduct which brought the fight. 
"I think," said Poll, "this beats the Dutch, 
Tho' the truth is, Polly, you talk too much ! " 

It was many a day ere Poll recovered 

'Twixt life and death for a long time hovered ; 

And when once more Poll was well and gay, 

As she ate her cracker, strange words would say: 

At least to the children they appeared as such, 

When Poll would tell them: "Don't talk too much!" 



AND OTHER POEMS 139 



THE SMILE OF WOMAN. 

Life's pathway is thorned, tho' with roses adorned, 

The struggle is hard for man ; 
Yet cheerful he seems, and hardships he deems 

A part of God's wisdom and plan. 
And thanks for the love of our Euler above, 

Who gave one solace below, 
Made earth's desert isle, by woman's sweet smile, 

A place even happy 'mid woe. 

Hope ever beams bright, like a beacon light, 

Cheering us onward through life ; 
Not till gloom on us breaks, and sorrow o'ertakes, 

We falter and flee from earth's strife. 
It is then woman's smile will ever beguile 

Sorrow away from man 's heart ; 
May the day never dawn when her smile shall be gone, 

And we from it forever must part. 

Life's shadows are cast, and on us fall fast, 

Like shades of the evening to stay ; 
And weary of strife, in the sunset of life, 

Man rests from the cares of the day. 



140 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 

Then, like lilies so fair, sun-kissed in the air, 

The smile of woman will leaven ; 
In the age of decline, when pressed hy old Time, 

Woman makes life to us Heaven. 



AND OTHER POEMS 141 



THE DISASTROUS CROSSING. 

I hear complaint, that our neighbor's eow, 

That in venturing sees a passing train; 
And in trying to make the crossing — how? 

In front of an engine — Alas, in vain ! 
For the engineer, in a reckless way 

Drives his engine — a deadly missile, 
With the pilot catching any cow astray, 

Never ringing a bell or sounding whistle ! 
Why, on McShane's crossing last Saturday night, 

Number Six, a passenger, two hours late, 
Caught Smith 's best Jersey, and killed outright 

His old milch cow with a loitering gait. 

What a pity it is these train won 't stop 

For the old milch cows with a loitering gait ; 
That Knights of the Engine, with clubs don't hop 

And scare the cow — let passengers wait; 
For time is nothing— Aren't the crossings free? 

Don 't laws of the State permit cows to roam ; 
To eat up gardens, hook the maple tree ; 

Ditch trains on crossings while coming home? 



142 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 

But what does it matter a train be thrown 
From off the track with its human freight; 

A fireman killed, — a broken bone, — 

By the old milch cow with a loitering gait? 

And what's it matter, — an engineer's fear; 

A passenger killed by this cruel fate; 
That millions of property be lost each year 

By the old milch cow with a loitering gait. 
The State still pastures this grand old cow ; 

The streets and the crossings seem always free ; 
Roads, sidewalks, bridges — all subservient now 

To the old milch cow and her company ; 
Wouldn't the saving of millions, now spent in fence. 

Preventing the ditching of passengers, freights, 
Be not a sufficient recompense, 

For keeping up cows with loitering gaits ? 



AND OTHER POEMS 143 



RECOMPENSE. 

A Wolf, with a bone stuck fast in his throat, 
Offered a Crane a twenty-pound note ; 
Promising pay, when the bone should be drawn 
From the muscular throat of the Wolf so brawn. 

. The long necked Crane, 
For the love of gain, 
Into his throat put her head so stout 
And instantly drew the bone right out! 

"Your money now," said the greedy Crane. 

"I now have relieved you from all pain, 

Surely, sir ! I want my reward ? ' ' 

' ' Do you think, ' ' said the wolf, ' • My word I regard ? ' ' 

His teeth ever winding 

'Mid grinning and grinding, 
"You surely already have quite recompense 
From the jaws of a Wolf your head to take hence. ' ' 



144 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 



A CHARIVARI. 

The moon was rising, peeping through 
The lovely sky, with its azure blue; 

For the hour was late, eleven had sped, 
Ere the guests and hosts retired to bed ; 

While the seeming stillness of the night, 
To the host and hostess gave delight. 

The village boys before had heard, 
Joshua Judkins had caged a bird ; 

And the leader cried: "I'll put the question, 
Isn't a charivari, boys, a good suggestion?" 

When out there rang in ringing notes, 
"Aye! aye!" from many lusty throats. 

Said Jimmy McShane, the butcher's son, 
" I 've a bucket of blood, hurrah for fun ! 

We '11 pour it around the house, then see 
The cows give Joshua a charivari." 

The blood was poured all over the grass, 
And the gates left open for cows to pass. 

Brown 's brindle cow was the first that bawled ; 
Then her yearling heifer loudly called; 



AND OTHER POEMS 145 

While fifty steers from Thompson's clover 
Threw down the fence and went rushing over; 

The village cows furnished new recruits — 
A hundred strong, the bellowing brutes. 

Joshua, from his nuptial bed did rouse, 
Hearing the noise of the bellowing cows, 

In a garment red, with club quite stout, 
Fearlessly rushed to drive them out; 

His good bride watching, yelled: "Murder, Fire!" 
As Joshua ran from their vengeful ire ! 

The cry was heard, by night-watchman caught— 

The cry of fire ! — full of evil fraught ; 
And in night's stillness the fire bell rang, 

Its thundering clatter went Clang! clang! clang! 
While neighbors ran in their clothes of night, 

As they only run in a panic 's fright ! 

Meeting Jemmy as they rushing came, 

He bade them "stiddy!" there was no flame! 

The bell was rung by some paltroon, 
After welcomin' Joshua's honeymoon! 

While the boys were on a bit of a spree ; 
And the cows were "givin' a charivari!" 



146 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 

Again and again, was the sight unique, 
As they pawed and bellowed in wild freak ; 

And assistance was of no avail 
When a cow once struck the bloody trail ! 

They pawed and bellowed — tore the ground ; 
Bewailing the air with moaning sound ! 

Then, at the approach of the morning 's light, 
When the sun rose up, full, round, and bright; 

The blood all covered, content to yield, 
Each steer strolled back to his clover field. 

Each cow went bawling home to her calf, 
Leaving Joshua with his better half. 



AND OTHER POEMS 147 



CAUTION. 



A Ewe unto her darling said, 
"Now, my Lamb, as you have been fed, 
I'll take me hither to the mead, 
And try to find myself some feed; 
"While I am gone, you watchful be 
That harm may never come to thee. ' ' 

"What shall I do, pray mamma dear, 
When you are gone, if Wolves I hear ? ' ' 
The mother said : ' ' Ah, precious child, 
Fear not the Wolves when roaming wild ; 
Stay in the fold, ope' not the door, 
As I have told you oft before." 

' ' But mamma, should a playmate come ? ' ' 
"Do not answer, but be quite dumb; 
Unless they give this watchword, fear — 
' A curse on the Wolf, he may be near. ' ' ' 
A Wolf was strolling by and heard — 
Remembered well the Lamb 's watchword. 

The mamma gone, the Wolf came hence 
To give the pass and make pretense ; 



148 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 

"A curse on the Wolf, he may be near!" 
Then to a crack he placed his ear. 
"Ay, sir, I hear the 'pass,' 'tis right; 
Show now the 'sign,' 'A foot that's white.' " 

The Wolf, without white feet, was astounded, 
And went his way, somewhat confounded, 
To think a Lamb would caution show, 
Demanding "pass" and "sign" to know! 
The Lamb in showing prudence rare, 
Deprived the Wolf of mutton fare. 



AND OTHER POEMS 149 



DISCONTENT. 

Some timid Hares were in alarm ; 
In constant fear of coming harm ; 
Resolved one day in desperation 
To rid themselves of all vexation. 
"Enemies will each day annoy; 
And snares be set us to decoy ; 
Or else by hounds we'll be pursued ; 
Our helpless race will be subdued. ' ' 

The leader did to all propose 

A way to rid themselves of woes ; 

"We'll to a precipice all go 

And jump into the lake below." 

So off they started, running fast — 

Each leap was made like 'twere the last— 

Each Hare to seek a watery grave — 

Life's troubles bury 'neath the wave. 

Upon the banks a school of Frogs, 
With scarce a care, on sunny logs, 
Heard their approach with great affright, 



150 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 

And each one jumped with all his might- 
Into the bottom of the lake, 
As quick as legs could bodies take. 
' ' Hold up ! " cried the leading Hare, 
Our case is not one of despair ! 

' ' For here are others more faint-hearted 
That by our running we have started ! 
We 'd best not do as first intended ! ' ' 
So back each Hare his own way wended : 
Finding more timid creatures sent 
On earth, the Hares were more content 
To wrestle with the cares of life : 
For each doth daily have his strife. 



AND OTHER POEMS 151 



LABOR HAS ITS REWARD. 

A Heifer was watching an Ox one day, 

When the Ox was hard at work ; 
While the Heifer was bounding about at play 

She would frequently laugh and smirk 

And taunt the Ox with reflections 

On his very unhappy fate : 
In being compelled to labor 

From early until late. 

Shortly after was the harvest home : 

Then the owner the Ox released: 
While the Heifer was bound with strong cords, 

To be slain at the harvest feast. 

The Ox said unto the Heifer, 

As her owner drove her away: 
' ' For this you were in idleness 
So long allowed to stay : 

I 've noticed one thing all my life 
The idle may flourish awhile ; 



152 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 

But an evil day will take them away — 
Good-bye!" said the Ox, with a smile. 

Then let us always remember, 
And thro ' life it always regard : 

There is no one thing truer here on earth - 
Than, ' ' Labor has its reward. ' ' 



AND OTHER. POEMS 153 



IN CONTEMPT. 



Into a trial court, by chance, one day, 
Two Irish gentlemen did idly stray ; 
His Honor was calling a case between 
Timotheus Smith versus John McQueen. 
Counselor Jennings, with a bald old pate, 
Began the jury to interrogate ; 
First, tendering four, to Counselor Clair, 
Whose shining cranium was minus hair. 

"Arrah! Ted," said Pat, to his Irish mate, 
' ' Be the powers that be — these men ornate, 
Who 're tryin ' the case, are wather scald ; 
Fa'th ! the skelps o ' the lawyers both are bald ! 
I'll bet" — "Order! gentlemen," roared the judge; 
"Orther!" cried Pat, giving Teddy a nudge. 
' ' Bring up the culprits before the court ! ' ' 
' ' What f er, Yer Honor ? ' ' was the quick retort. 

' ' Let a fine be entered for contempt ! ' ' 
"Contimpt? Why! Yer Honor, 'twas niver drimpt! 
I was merely offerin' my brother Ted, 
To wager a bit on the lawyer's head ; 



154 BIRCH-BOD DAYS 

Whin, Yer Honor, yers'lf did fret an' frown 
I was goin' to put five dollars down 
That the bald-headed lawyer would win the ease, 
Divil I'll bet— if it offinds Yer Grace." 



AND OTHER POEMS 155 



FLATTERY. 



An old thievish Crow, devoid of fear, 
Had stolen cheese from a cottage near, 
The dainty morsel the Fox could see 
As the Crow new over into a tree. 
' ' Well ! ' ' said the Fox, ' ' I humbly confess, 
Cheese is a thing I 'd love to possess ; 
But how to succeed I hardly know 
Unless it be to natter the Crow. ' ' 

Then he exclaimed : ' ' How handsome the Crow ! 

In beauty no bird where 'er I go 

Will excel her! In form perfection! 

The fairest of fair her complexion! 

But oh, what a horrid, horrid voice ! 

If it equaled her beauty, Crow's choice 

Of all the birds for a ruling queen, 

For the Crow's a bird fine as I've seen !" 

The foolish Crow, anxious to refute 
Reflections cast by the wily brute ; 
Then let go her cheese, and, la, la, la ! 
Began an unearthly, ' ' Caw, caw, caw ! " 



156 BIECH-ROD DAYS 

Snapping it up : "It is quite a meal 

For a hungry Fox, better I feel ; ' ' 

"And good Crow," said the Fox, now taunting, 

"Your voice is good, but wit is wanting!" 

It is well, dear friends, by this to see 
A flatterer lives on flattery, 
And will flatter not, without some aim ; 
And should you heed him, who is to blame ? 
The Crow was quite slow to comprehend 
Between a real and pretended friend ; 
And hungry went — that day was living 
On fulsome praise the Fox was giving. 



AND OTHER POEMS 157 



INTEGRITY. 



A thief one night came to a yard, 

A house to break for booty. 
But found the House-Dog, there a guard 

Intent on doing duty. 

Here, fellow, ' ' throwing him some meat, 

' ' Come here, sir ! Stop your alarm. 
Fine old Dog ! Why do you not eat ? 

Why bark ? Sir, I mean no harm. ' ' 

' ' This sudden kindness, sir, of yours, 

These favors unexpected, 
To one who guards his master's doors, 

Must promptly be rejected. 
Ah, sir ! you have some private ends 

To accomplish for your gain. 
On integrity all depends ; 

To betray, sir, I disdain. ' ' 

Oft in this life it is the ease, 
We have a place of trust and care, 

There's nothing more will us disgrace 
Integrity then to spare! 



158 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 

' Tis pleasure gone at heavy cost- 
Betraying trusts when given, 

Respect of all on earth we 've lost — 
And worthless sure for heaven ! 



AND OTHER POEMS 159 



BEST LOOK BEFORE YOU LEAP. 

A Fox which fell into a well, 

Was casting all about ; 
For 'twas quite hard for him to tell 

Just how he should get out. 

A Goat came to the well and stood 

Wanting a little drink, 
Asked Reynard: "Was the water good?" 

And, "Plenty did he think?" 

Said Fox, dissembling his sad plight ; 

' ' Come down, my friend, and see ; 
"I think 'twould give you much delight, 

' Tis cool as it can be. ' ' 

Down leaped the Goat, head, horns and all ; 

The Fox jumped on him quick ; 
Out of the well, over the wall, 

Was now a simple trick. 

Then spake the Fox: "Had you the brains 
You have of woolly beard, 



160 BIRCH-KOD DAYS 

You would be often spared the pains 
Leaping at what you heard ! ' ' 

' ' For life 's at best a constant steep ! 

' Tis hard to climb, who can ? 
Then, always look before you leap 

Is much the wiser plan ! ' ' 



AND OTHER POEMS 161 

HELP. 

Once a youthful bather 

Bathing in the sea, 
Called to a traveler: 

"Oh, come save me!" 

For the little bather 

Was going down, down, down ; 
Down to feed the fishes ; 

To drown, drown, drown! 

Very unconcernedly 

Stood the traveler there, 
Telling the little bather: 

' ' Of water to beware ! ' ' 

' ' It very imprudent was, 

Unless that he could swim ; 
To go into deep water — 

That much he 'd say to him ! ' ' 

' ' Oh, sir ! " cried the bather, 

"Help, help me! ere I go; 
You may scold me ever after — 

But save me now from woe ! ' ' 



162 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 

The traveler him admonished; 

The boy sunk out of sight ; 
And was never more permitted 

Again to see the light : 

So I say that counsel 
Without help 's of little use ; 

When one needs a helping hand 
Words are a poor excuse. 



AND OTHER POEMS 163 



MOLLITER MANUS IMPOSUIT. 

A client to his lawyer said 
Another had with club his head 
Pounded and beaten on his skull, 
Until his senses all were dull. 
And hence, to have his wrongs corrected, 
As well as all his rights protected, 
He merely now had called to see 
The law's appropriate remedy. 

The lawyer quickly glanced to look 
And took from off his shelf a book ; 
Then with his pen began to write, 
These words on paper did indite : 
John Smith, the plaintiff, here complains 
Of James Jones, defendant, and maintains 
That on, etc., with force and arms 
Defendant perpetrated, to wit, harms. 

He violently seized the plaintiff's hair, 
Then pulled and tore till scalp was bare ; 
Then with his fists struck many blows, 
Resulting in a bunged-up nose ; 



364 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 

Tlien having downed him with a brick, 
He did the plaintiff kick and kick ; 
The damage done to shirt and collar, 
Was of the value of one dollar. 

By means which, the plaintiff hurt and bruised. 
Sick, sore and lame, thus badly used, 
Physician's bill he has incurred, 
One hundred dollars is averred; 
And other wrongs, to plaintiff, great, 
As well, the people of the State, 
Wherefore, the plaintiff, injured, sues — 
One thousand will his wrongs excuse. 

First plea: Not guilty; Second: 'tis said 
Molliter manus imposuit, was plead, 
That is, defendant but gently laid 
His hands upon the plaintiff, and him stayed 
From striving with force and arms to beat 
His neighbor Green in passion's heat; 
The plaintiff's trespasses above narrated, 
He verifies were those here stated. 

Then to the jury did each counsel show 
Defendant's zeal and plaintiff's woe; 



AND OTHER POEMS 165 

Then to the jury plaintiff's counsel came 

And said : Defendant, by his plea, admits his blame ; 

Malliter manias imposuit was the plea, 

Filed by the counsel, let it translated be : 

Molliter, he mauled, manus, the man, to wit, 

My client, and on him imposed — imposuit. 



166 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 



HYPOCRISY. 



A Wolf, bitten by dogs, wounded, lay 

In his lair almost asleep : 
When, perchance, a Sheep astray, 

Into the lair did peep. 

' ' Maimed sorely I am, my friend — 
The fever running high tide — 

Pray fetch me some water, and then 
Myself with meat I'll provide." 

' ' A fine idea ! ' ' the Sheep replied ; 

"If I should bring you the draught 
I for you, too, meat will provide, 

The instant I am caught, 

Looks deceitful avoid, 

And hypocritical speech, 
If never by these annoyed 

Life's highest stations you'll reach. 



AND OTHER POEMS 167 

THE WATER LILY. 

Rippling rills that run down to the sea, 
Are but tears which the winter has shed; 

When the Flower- Angel melts them all free 
And her cold, chilly ice-chains have fled. 

If the stars be the flowers of the heaven ! 

Then the flowers are the stars of the earth ; 
Which God in compassion has given— 

To us priceless for beauty and worth. 

We garland the bride of the morrow 
With the fairest and loveliest bloom ; 

We place them in wreaths in our sorrow 
When the coffin is laid in the tomb. 

A joy to the sad ones left weeping ; 

An emblem of the rich golden-dawn ; 
Of spring-time the Father is keeping 

In heaven where the loved ones have gone. 

' ' Take this, ' ' and most sacredly guard it, 
It is Truth 's germ, I give to your clan ; 

From the Flower- Angel ever regard it 
A rare bulb that is priceless to man ! 



168 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 

A bloom, 'twill in beauty glow ever, 
Eesplendent in sunshine or rain, 

' Twill free thee of vice — from sin sever — 
Truth, I give thee to always maintain. 

A slave to his passions, and in crime, 

Man trod Truth prostrate under his feet ; 

In the marshes, in filth, and in slime 

Her destruction and loss seemed complete. 

Winter drew near with her tears all chilled ; 

Her storms raging on seas, and the lands ; 
Rains beat down and the marshes were filled, 

And ice-fettered by her cold, cold hands. 

And God smote man for his sin and lust ; 

And for his struggle for worldly power; 
Not willing to love Him or to trust 

Until death's final and fatal hour. 

A window in heaven is open thrown, 
And the Flower- Angel breathes upon earth ; 

All nature smiles, and the valleys groan- 
Teeming in beauty, and lovely birth. 



AND OTHER POEMS 169 

The valleys rejoice; the rocks laugh loud; 

While the green-covered trees clap their hands 
The hills sing out ; and the mountains proud 

Echo the refrain over the lands. 

The waters wide now cover the place 

Of man 's wild and reckless ruth ; 
Where once he had trampled in disgrace 

The Flower- Angel's bulb, the germ of Truth. 

A maiden came there with her lover fair, 
And she launched her light boat on the deep ; 

In sailing around espied what were 

Twelve spotless white flowers fast asleep. 

The maid bent low at the lovely scene, 
Then touching the fairest of the flowers, 

"Why not, fair sister, water queen, 
Join us in this fairy-land of ours?" 

"Dearest maiden, I'm thy sister Truth, 

Whom the Flower- Angel gave away 
Unto a man in his reckless youth, 

With whom I loved and I longed to stay. 



170 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 

"But he crushed me, and I bleeding died, 
And was buried in the marshes low ; 

Where the Flower- Angel came and me espied, 
Then soon again I began to grow. 

"Luxuriant leaves of the richest green, 
And lovely white flowers, spotless and pure ; 

Crown now my head as the water-queen, 
'er the deep disgrace I couldn 't endure. ' ' 

And the maiden bent low her head once more : 
' ' Thy name shall be Lily, ' ' she softly said ; 

"White Water-Lily, Truth, I adore, 

Purest, and fairest, raise up thy head ! ' ' 

The Lily said, ' ' There 's not a stain, 

Though bitter my hours in life now past, 

'Truth crushed to earth shall rise again,' 
Be true to herself until the last. ' ' 

The Lily shall be an emblem pure 
Of virtue, beauty, and lovely grace ; 

And woman's love will ever endure 
In the heart of man to hold first place. 



AND OTHER POEMS 171 



I CAN SIT AND LISTEN NIGHTLY. 

I can sit and listen nightly, 

To a sound that does ine thrill ; 
' Tis the engine throbbing lightly ; 

And the music of the drill. 

While the city's hushed in sleeping, 

I can hear at midnight's hour, 
At the derrick vigil keeping 

Drillers working on their tower. 

I can hear the bailers dumping ; 

And the sand line on its reel ; 
Hear the busy engine thumping 

As the brake's thrown off the wheel. 

Down through shales and rocks they're going; 

Through the coals and through the clays ; 
Casing pearly waters flowing, 

Till they strike the sand that pays. 

Then the drill in is exciting, 
As the crude comes from below : 



172 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 

There 's no mining so inviting 
As a thousand barrel flow. 

Seems more like a tale of fairies, 
Than here on my native soil; 

That our grand old fertile prairies 
Yield the richest finds of oil. 



AND OTHER POEMS 173 

THE THRUSH. 

At morn, I hear thy note, so cheer, sweet Thrush. 
The while I dream, in song you teem, blithe Thrush. 
God made the earth to joy in mirth, dear Thrush. 
And thy gay trill is but His will, O Thrash ! 
May I be heard, like thee, fond bird, bright Thrush : 
To sing God's praise, sweet as thy lays, brown Thrush. 

SONNET. 

(In Memory of Father Abraham J. Ryan.) 
A soul that sweetly sang for all mankind, 

And gave to humanity his years and days 

From every one deserves unstinted praise, 
For noble qualities of heart and mind. 
Poet Priest ! 'tis in thy verse we find 

Rhyme's dainty ripple and thought's happy cheer. 

Which make thy writings to all doubly dear, 
For poet 's art with sense thou hast combined. 
The world is better for thy verse and thee, 

For thou hast ever helped thy fellow man ; 

Beloved of men is truly a reward. 
In our broad land where priest and poet 's free, 

And Ireland's sons are leaders in the van, 

Thee and thy works are held in high regard. 



174 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 



GREASY HOLLOW STATION. 



Down to our little station, came the rugged oil men's 

clan, 
And all hearts were in a flutter 'till they saw their 

well laid plan. 
' Till the drill went moving downward, struck sand 

that proved a pay, 
When the oil went gushing upward, while the drillers 

held full sway; 
Now the oil is rushing tankward and the pools filled 

with its flow, 
With the pipe lines almost bursting and the tank cars 

on the go. 
Oil and gas, old nature's products, 'round about us 

everywhere, 
AVhile the Greasy Hollow people idly stand about and 

stare. 

II. 

The water lines and gas lines are running o 'er the hills, 
To the towering derricks, with their thousand weight 
of drills, 



AND OTHER POEMS 175 

With the ever throbbing engine, with its hot and hiss- 
ing steam, 

That handles drills and sand lines from the great old 
walking-beam, 

And down through rocks and shales they go, the drill 
is all that tells 

' Till now we have at Greasy some thousand-barrel 
wells. 

This field is rich in gas and oil, from this there's no 
escape, 

And Greasy folks have all quit work and stand about 
and gape. 

III. 

We now have miles of derricks, and oil wells plenty, 

too, 
Huge iron tanks and loading racks, and dry holes 

mighty few; 
Houses for power, houses for wares, buildings on every 

side, 
And men that work and hustle like to the rushing tide ; 
With glycerine shooters on the move, skurrying to and 

fro; 
And what in the dickens next will come the people do 

not know. 



176 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 

Wealth now pours in on Greasy, and oil 's shipped all 

the while, 
And the people here are wide awake and with the oil 

men smile. 



AND OTHER POEMS 177 



THE REDBIRD. 

Of all the native song birds in the West 
The redbird is the one I most admire; 
So beautiful, so lovely its attire, 

That of the cardinal with brilliant crest, 

A sweet and flutelike songster and the best, 

That stays with us throughout the chilling throes 
Of dismal sleets and dreary wintry snows; 

A dooryard visitor and welcome guest. 

When winter's past and vernal spring comes bright 
With sunshine, bud and bloom and trees of green, 
I hear its song clear as the bugle horn, 

All through the day, till fades the evening light ; 
I sleep until the first gray dawn is seen, 
Then wake to hear the redbird 's song at morn. 



178 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 



FOUND. 

(From German of Goethe.) 
In woods I went, 

In solitude; 
On nothing bent, 
In restless mood. 

I saw in shadow, 
A floweret rare. 

Like stars it shone, 
Like eyes so fair. 

I sought to pluck, 
When soft it said, 

Must I be withered ? 
Must I be dead ? 

Its tiny roots 
I dug with care, 

And safely bore 
To my garden fair. 



AND OTHER POEMS 179 

Again I planted, 

In a quiet place. 
Now grows it ever, 

And blooms with grace. 



180 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 

TO MY FRIENDS. 

I. 

While I live I want the friendship 
Of all those with whom I deal ; 

' Tis the greatest earthly treasure 
One can leave behind, I feel. 

II. 

Yon may search and find earth's riches, 
They will dazzle, but in vain ; 

Without friends, there is a longing 
Of the heart oppressed with pain. 

III. 

Strength and courage filled with brightness 

Is the lot of only few; 
Yet the sweetest tie that binds us, 

Is the heart that beats for you. 

IV. 

In the sunshine of life 's morning, 

Hope allures us day by day ; 
Still the heart is filled with sadness, 

When life's friendships pass away. 



AND OTHER POEMS 181 



V. 

I will ever cling with fondness, 
To the memories of the past ; 

And I hope that ties will bind us, 
As true friends until the last. 



182 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 



A WISH. 



I wish that I was young once more, 

And in my native town ; 
With all the old inhabitants, 

To gossip, and lie down 
Upon some bench to stretch full length, 

Then look about and gawk, 
Upon the boys at marble playing, 

And hear their idle talk. 
I 'd like to jump with bricks for weights, 

And go half hammon some; 
To go a-fishing with the boys, 

And slip away from home ; 

Then on a, log we'd hail a bite, 

We never had but few, 
Yet with what enrapt delight, 

We 'd spend an hour or two : 
' Twas mostly silver sides we caught, 

We never fished for salmon — 
I now look back on hopeful youth, 

To think old age is gammon. 



AND OTHER POEMS 183 



IN MEMORY OF GEN. LAWTON. 

The laurels of victory are shattered and torn 
From the bravest of men who have ever them worn, 
While the wreath of the victor lies silent and gory 
With the valorous chief on the field of his glory. 

"He was only a soldier," who from youth till his last 
Had fought for his country in wars that are past— 
At Shilo, at Corinth, Chickamauga's hard fight, 
And the field of Atlanta he had fought for the right. 

Who had heard the shrill call of the bullets' wild wail 
On desert, through mountain, on the Apache's trail; 
Like a wild-rushing torrent he swept on his way 
Till Geronimo's band succumbed to our sway. 

The stern joy of the battle on El Caney's hights 
He breathed as he fought for the freedom and rights 
Of poor bleeding Cuba, and his courage that hour 
Bore triumphant victory to his valor and power. 

He was bending o'er comrade, who lay wounded by foe. 
And had bidden him cheer, and was turning to go, 



184 BIRCH-BOD DAYS 

When his tall, manly form was struck by a ball. 
And that life which seemed charmed had answered 
death's call. 

Sad, sorrowful sobs broke the rhythm of death 
As their chieftain lay helpless and gasping for breath — 
Lay bleeding and dying near his gallant command 
On the field of San Mateo, in our far distant land. 

But he died a true hero in the front line of battle, 
Where the Maxim 's quick fire and the Mauser 's rough 

rattle ; 
Where troops of brave horse as they rode swiftly on 
Told to the chief the battle was won. 

He sleeps his last sleep on Arlington 's mound 
With the Nation's brave dead, in that hallowed ground ; 
For his country he died, and his country will give 
This tribute to Lawton — "Thy memory shall live." 



AND OTHER POEMS 185 



THE SLEIGH RIDE. 

In the sleigh 
Hie away ! 
Here we go 
On the snow. 

In a trance, 
How we dance. 
Steeds away 
Oh, how gay ! 

Now we ride, 
Now we glide, 
Swiftly by 
How we fly ! 

Music swells 
Of the bells 
In the night 
Give delight. 



186 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 

In a daze 
How we gaze 
In a maze 
At the sleighs ! 

' Tis a treat. 
On the sleet— 
With your Sweet 
To go sleighing ! 



AND OTHER POEMS 187 



TOM WELSH. 



At the front among producers, you can see him day by 
day, 

See an old untiring worker, one that never knew dis- 
may, 

Once his hair black — like the raven, it is white now as 
the snow ; 

Once his step so firm and steady, slightly trembling 
now and slow. 

He has seen the wells of York state, and the gushers 
of P— A., 

Heard the busy engines humming in the fields of West 
V— A. 

II. 

In the seventies down at Bradford, in the hey-day of 

that field, 
His among the best of leases, and were large and rich 

in yield, 
They were studded well with derricks, and were covered 

o'er with tanks; 



188 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 

Tom was then a good producer, with deposits in the 

banks, 
I am told the fields of Bradford then were fine among 

the best, 
And the life of a producer was a merry making quest, 

III. 

He has leased down in Ohio, and Kentucky rentals 

paid; 
Drilled in wells away in Texas, and to Oklahoma 

strayed ; 
Back to Indiana coming, 'till at last that field was gone, 
With the greatest oil invasion, Tom went moving west- 
ward on, 
Here it is we find him leasing, chipper still as any boy, 
In the oil men's new found wonder — in the fields of 
Illinois. 

IV. 

Oft I meet him in the oil fields, where he tells me of 

the past, 
So among the old time oil men he, I reckon, should be 

classed. 
All respect and all adore him, and I hope he gets his 

due. 



AND OTHER POEMS 189 

Pioneer of all the oil fields, with his years now num- 
bered few. 

Tom so finely tells a story, that when Gabriel's beckons 
come, 

Will meet a grand reception when he reaches his last 
home. 



190 BIRCH-BOD DAYS 



COME MY LOVE. 

Come my love and let us ponder, — 
In the moonlight let us wander ; 
Where to thee my love I '11 tell, — 
How I love thee fond and well : 
How I adore thee let me speak — 
For thy hand and heart I seek. 

Life is love and love is dearest 
With the friends to whom we 're nearest ; 
With the friends that ne 'er forsake us ; 
With the friends that help to make us 
Happy in a world that's cheerless, — 
Loving hearts both brave and fearless. 



AND OTHER POEMS 191 



ENVY. 



Envy, thou snare of all mankind, 

An evil all should dread ; 
An envious, jealous-hearted mind, 

By cunning's ever led. 
The panther lurks with stealthful eyes, 

And talons sharp and strong, 
Till on its prey in quick surprise 

Springs as it steals along. 
So envy springs when least we dream, 
Its glaring eyeballs on us gleam. 

Cold, heartless envy we may befriend 

With kindness every day, 
At last it strikes, our hopes to rend — 

The debt will thus repay. 
Nor hate, nor malice can such harm 

Upon a victim deal; 
Envy should ever us alarm 

"Whene'er its force we feel. 
Like burning flames its quenchless thirst 
Is sure destruction when 'tis nurst. 



192 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 



CAN YOU KISS AND NEVER TELL? 

Balmy air of spring-time's fragrant 

With the perfume of the flowers ; 
And the velvet of the grass-plots 

Makes a fairie world of ours. 
Trysting underneath the shade-tree 

Where the birds so merry dwell, 
Tell me darling will you love me — 

Can you kiss and never tell ? 

If I were a bird in freedom 

I would murmur love anew ; 
I would warble only love-songs, 

I would plight my faith to you : 
For this life will soon be ended, 

Solemn then the funeral knell ; 
Let us joy the present moment — 

Can you kiss and never tell ? 

We are on a billowy ocean — 

Sailing in a fitful sea ; 
We are storm-tossed weary pilgrims, 

None to love but you and me. 



AND OTHER POEMS 193 

While the tempest still is raging, 
While the crest-waves grandly swell 

On the bosom of life's ocean — 
Can yon kiss and never tell ? 



194 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 



ANGLING. 

We cast our hook, 

Into the brook, 
On time must always wait ; 

For neither hurry 

Nor much flurry, 
Is just the thing for bait. 

Nor will our wishing 

Make us good fishing, 
' Tis patient toil and work ; 

A good endeavor 

Will for us ever 
Succeed, if Ave '11 not shirk. 

While some may cast, 

And seeming fast 
Catch fish from out life 's sea ; 

Others must know 

' Tis for them slow, 
Though fishing good may be. 



AND OTHER POEMS 195 

Cast then your line 

The fishing's fine, 
A principle is innate 

That tells mankind, 

They all will find 
Some one to bite the bait. 



196 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 



REMEMBER, BOYS, THE MAINE. 

In the harbor of Havana a gallant ship was lying, 
Over which the stars and stripes unfurled were proudly 

flying; 
Brave Sigsbee was the captain of her valorous crew, 
From the North Atlantic Squadron, seamen tried and 

true; 
Sent by our Nation's orders to a friendly port of 

Spain — 
Battleships of the Atlantic — remember, boys, the 

Maine ! 

Anchored in Havana's harbor on that silent night, 
The sailors were all resting 'neath Moro Castle 's light ; 
Dreaming only of some loved one, in a far and distant 

home, 
Little thinking, little knowing, the fate so soon to come ; 
When hurled into eternity by the heartless sons of 

Spain- 
Battleships of the Atlantic — remember, boys, the 

Maine ! 

Ships of the Atlantic squadrons, of Sampson, and of 
Schley ; 



AND OTHER POEMS 197 

Of fighting Captain Evans, of the fearless Iowa ; 
Massachusetts and Montgomery, Cincinnati and St. 

Paul, 
New York and Minneapolis, go at thy country's call; 
Fight ! Fight ! valiant seamen, strike down the fleets 

of Spain! 
Battleships of the Atlantic — remember, boys, the 

Maine ! 

Recall the fate of Jenkins — noble-hearted, true and 

brave ; 
Remember Comrade Merritt, how he sank beneath the 

wave ; > 

Remember, boys, that grand old ship blown up by 

Spanish mines ; 
Remember how her dauntless crew went down near 

Spanish lines ; 
How they jeered and how they taunted, — those dastard 

sons of Spain ! 
Battleships of the Atlantic — remember, boys, the 

Maine ! 
Battleships of the Atlantic— hurl your iron-shot and 

shell 
Into walls of Moro Castle — blot out that prison-hell; 
Avenge the death of comrades, who, on that fatal day, 



398 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 

Lay bleeding and lay dying in that treacherous Span- 
ish bay. 

Avenge the death of sailors that were killed by brutal 
Spain ! 

Battleships of the Atlantic — Avenge! Avenge the 
Maine ! 



AND OTHER POEMS 199 



IN THE OIL FIELDS. 

Drilling is fine on the leases, 

The boom is on in the town ; 
Crude in the tanks still increases ; 

The wells go steadily down. 

The boom is on in the town ; 

The streets are crowded each day ; 
The wells go steadily down, 

There's plenty of money to pay. 

The streets are crowded each day ; 

Though I love the smell of the oil; 
There is plenty of money to pay, 

Life is nothing but labor and toil. 

Though I love the smell of the oil, 
I wonder sometimes for a minute ; 

Life is nothing but labor and toil, 
If there is really anything in it. 



200 BIRCH-BOD DAYS 

I wonder sometimes for a minute, 
If money will lighten the yoke ; 

If there 's really anything in it, 
I guess — if you ever were broke. 

If money will lighten the yoke, 
The people are working like mad ; 

I guess, if you ever were broke, 
Oil wells make every one glad. 

The people are working like mad ; 

The pipe lines and money increases; 
Oil wells make every one glad; 

Drilling is fine on the leases. 



AND OTHER POEMS 201 



CHARACTER. 



A soul had been summoned and to obey, 
In dread was languishing from day to day ; 
Fear of the future to appear alone, 
Before the Master at the Judgment throne. 
He called to Riches his great worldly friend, 
To boldly lead him to his journey's end 
And plead for mercy, for deeds here below — 
In tones of sorrow, Riches answered "No." 

He called again, ' ' Of friends, I am in need, 
Some one to go with me to intercede, 
Some relative on whom I can rely, 
Ere I depart from Earth compelled to die." 
They came and went, and wept most bitter tears ; 
Spake words of solace ; bade him have no fears, 
Your friends will go with you unto death 's door, 
But there must stop, they can do nothing more. 

He called again at his untimely fate, 
To Character through life his chosen mate, 
Riches may desert and friends can little do, 
True character alone can take one through. 



202 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 

He said to Character, "You plead my cause, ' ' 
"Fear not, Oh mortal man the Master's laws 
Possessed of me, Oh soul ! You will alone, 
Receive God's blessing at the final throne." 



AND OTHER POEMS 203 



MY LOVES. 



My first was a damsel, as fair as a rose 

That blooms in the morning, fresh with dew ; 
She was comely ; I loved her, and everyone knows 

No love like the first is so warm and so true. 
I was then but a boy in my passionate teens ; 

She was charming — I fondled her dearly. 
Oh ! I cannot forget, tho ' time it me weans. 

For I loved her, yes, truly, sincerely. 
Long since she has left me — lament's no avail— 

Is married — a mother — to me that is naught ; 
Once more on love 's waves my bark I will sail — 

To grieve would be folly, with evil full fraught. 

My second — a sweet little miss of thirteen — 

Had lips like twin rose-buds; and laughing gray 
eyes; 
Resplendent as sunlight her hair's golden sheen ; 

Like the ripple of brooks sweetly low her replies. 
Ah! She was my idol — I worshiped her too— 

And fond were the hopes that I cherished. 
I would wed her one day, my darling so true ; 

Alas, furtive hopes, how they perished ! 



204 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 

She, too, went away — I do not now care — 
Still her memory is deep in my heart — 

I suppose, like my first, a mother, somewhere, 
A dear little wife doing nicely her part. 

My third, and the best, the last kindled spark, 

Was a sweet little maiden, her summers sixteen, 
Eyes beaming with brightness, so loving, so dark, 

And bonny brown tresses, the fairest e'er seen. 
Adored I my fair one, oft my love I 'd repeat, 

With a kind and affectionate heart ; 
I now had determined, if she beat a retreat, 

It would not be owing to my not doing my part. 
I wooed and I won her — the best I must tell — 

Ever happy we 've been from that day ; 
Life's best thing I find is the home where we dwell, 

When all help to make it pleasant to stay. 



AND OTHER POEMS 205 



DAVID TAYLOR. 

Do I recollect Dave Taylor ? Why yes, and I knew him 

as well 
As any of his generation, with whom I used to dwell ; 
He was a reckless-like old duffer, who would drink and 

swear and fight, 
And wasn't afraid of any man made, regardless of 

weight or height ; 
To us boys he was a terror, when he whooped like a 

Chicasaw brave, 
And the width of the street, wherever we'd meet, we'd 

always give to Dave. 
They used to raise 'ell on the Wabash, in the merry old 

long ago, 
And the meetings of the old settlers were for settling 

things you know; 
And Dave would row down the river, and tie his skiff 

to a tree, 
Then come up town and knock men down and go on a 

regular spree. 
He would clean out the village marshal and give the 

town no rest, 
For among all of the old-time knockers, Dave was 

reckoned best. 



206 BIRCH-BOD DAYS 

I recall how he stood off a posse, when suddenly he es- 
pied 

Fighting old George Bridwell, who had said one time 
Dave lied ; 

If my memory serves, at that meeting, George lost his 
good right eye, 

And the p 'int of his index finger, and he had to holler 
or die ; 

And when they pulled old Dave off, and took him 
'round to the doe's, 

He was drippin' in blood from the crown of his head 
down to the heel of his socks. 

But he wouldn't be licked and he couldn't be killed, 

and awhile before he died, 
He changed his ways and spent peaceful days, ere he 

left for the other side, 
In his little Hoosier cabin he reigned the river's king, 
Though floods would desolation and sometimes sorrows 

bring, 
Throughout life he was kind to the needy and would 

share with them his bread, 
So I think some day they'll be forgiving his way ere 

they resurrect the dead. 



AND OTHER POEMS 207 



THE OLD ASSESSOR. 

Long years ago we used to laugh, as he went 'round as- 

sessin ', 
A serious sort o' lookin' man, with face somehow im- 
pressing 
All of the voters rich and poor, they knew him like a T, 
And every time would cast their votes for old John 

Wiley C. 
He would get there year after year, altho ' a standin ' 

joke 
That every spring at 'sessin' time, John Wiley was a 

poke. 
And when his neighbors used to say, "Now John just 

make 'er hum". 
He always said, "I'm waitin' fer the yaller days to 

come". 

He'd poke around assessin' in the airly spring-like 

days, 
May be stoppin' with a neighbor, spinnin' yarns or 

singin ' lays ; 
His old face always cheery, beaming smiles for every 

one. 



208 BIKCH-ROD DAYS 

And he perhaps might 'sess a horse ere settin' of the 

sun; 
Across his shoulders then he'd swing that 'sessin' book 

of his, 
And jump into his old frail cart and make the old mare 

whiz. 
' ' It isn 't a big day 's work ' ', he 'd say, as he would start 

for home, 
' ' But then you know I 'm waitin ' f er the yaller days to 

come ' '. 



And thus throughout the month of May his 'sessin' 

always went, 
If he could find some crony out, on talkin ' ever bent ; 
And if some friend was in his field, would always stop 

the plow 
And chat with him 'till dinner time, and someway. 

John, somehow, 
Would make himself agreeable, and always stay for 

tea; 
And then would 'sess a cow or two, before it night 

would be. 
"I'm in no hurry", John would say, just as he started 

home, 
' ' For I am waitin ' as you see, the yaller days to come. ' ' 



AND OTHER POEMS 209 

John wouldn't discriminate 'gainst the poor, he always 

would be fair, 
And 'sessed the rich and poor alike, accordin' to their 

share ; 
He used to say, that 'sessin' wasn't hard for him no 

more, 
Because he always found the rich at 'sessin ' time were 

poor. 
He used to try and find the notes, the moneys, bonds 

and stocks, 
But somehow they would disappear, as if by magic 

shocks, 
"It's disapp'intin'," John would say, as he was start- 
ing home, 
"But then you know I'm waitin' fer the yaller days to 

come. ' ' 



And when long sunshine days would come, in dry, hot 

old July, 
You'd see old John take to his horse, and make things 

fairly fly; 
How then he would assess them all, his days of pay 

were o'er, 
He'd taken all the law allowed, and wanted few days 

more: 



210 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 

And John was law abiding, and urged 'sessin' must 

be done, 
And he would hear his neighbors say, "Now 'sessin' 

has begun". 
And when old John would hear these words, escape 

from friendly lips, 
He'd bow and say, "This year's assess' all others will 

eclipse". 

His book is in, yes, and a better people never knew, 

His only object was in life to give each man his due ; 

Nor politics could thwart his aim, nor bias his judg- 
ment, 

He chalked a straight and narrow line, knew values to 
a cent. 

And when at last old John gave out, took to his bed 
and died, 

His friends came in from far and near and o'er him 
wept and cried ; 

And as his funeral wended 'long, away, 'way from his 
home, 

His tearful neighbors sighed, alas ! "John's yaller days 
have come." 



FLOWING WELL 



AND OTHER POEMS 211 



AT THE DICKENS CLUB. 

Permit me, dear friends, I rise to explain 
Our ladies are lovely — I'll further maintain, 
For giving fine banquets they never were beaten, 
The Dickens, the finest I ever have eaten. 
Who all attend them? There's Congressman Joe, 
Pure-Food .Commissioner, Alfred Hanby, you know, 
These gourmands you'd let them would eat ev'ry pie. 
Should they keep on thus eating will eat till they die. 

There's Woodworth, our banker, a very fine man, 
To find the best table is always his plan. 
If he'd chew less tobacco, eat plenty of chickens, 
He would surely grow fat if he dined with the Dickens. 

There 's good brother Lowe and neighbor Doc Birch : 
Both belong in a choir to sing at some church : 
Birch will play toast-master, while Judge runs a joke. 
And at banquets they eat till you'd think they would 
choke. 

There's Mefford and Cooper drink coffee and tea, 
And imagine they're out on a regular spree, 



212 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 

And like John C. Maxwell grow jolly and stout 
When you feed them on turkey, salad and trout. 

Drs. Rafferty and Firebaugh will bid you be quiet, 
And get you down thin on a little soup diet ; 
Let them go to a banquet the Dickens have given, 
They soon will pronounce ' ' that life is worth livin ' ' \ 

There is friend Parker, if you wish him to treat 
Just give him ripe peaches and apples to eat : 
He'll regale on a pear; grow fat on a plum; 
Or to ice cream and strawberries will always succumb. 

Then good night to you all, I '11 be there when you let 

me. 
Just give me a toast, and never forget me. 
May each lady live long as Dickens is read, 
Be comfortably housed and always well fed. 



AND OTHER POEMS 213 

THE OIL MASCOT OF ILLINOIS. 

They call him the busy mascot, 

Of the oil fields in Illinois, 
From down about Oil Center, 

To the little station Stoy. 

It was he who placed a derrick 

On a lease now known as Shire ; 
Then went to drilling day and night, 

In a way we all admire. 

The wells were great producers 

Some, a thousand barrel flow, 
From the sands of Crawford county 

One thousand feet below. 

I wish that you could have seen him, 

When the oil went gushing high. 
His face shone then as brightly 

As the sun in a summer sky. 

He hails from Pennsylvania, 

From the old Oil City town ; 
D. T. Finley, wife and baby, 

Of late he writes it down. 



214 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 

Now the baby and good oil wells 
Make bis dark eyes beam with joy ; 

So a health to the hustling mascot, 
Of oil fields in Illinois. 



AND OTHER POEMS 215 



IN MEMORIAM— FATHER AND SON. 

Honorable Leland Stanford, Senior, founder of Leland 
Stanford, Junior, University, of California. 

The silent sunset robes the western sea 
In mellow tints that shed a luster free 
On glistening domes of Palo Alto 's crest, 
Where sleep the son and father, safe at rest. 
To him, ye youth, be grateful for these halls, — 
To him be praise for Palo Alto's walls. 
To him will Science beckon now with joy, 
Who here enshrines the memory of his boy. 
Once here the Aztec youth, the Indian 's child, 
On Palo Alto 's soil roved fierce and wild ; 
Here Poverty lurked round in dim dismay 
Where Wealth bids ever Art and Science stay. 
O mighty railroad king, whose rails of steel 
Were laid on desert wastes for public weal, 
Whose wheels of commerce ever come and go 
O'er Rockies' heights, o'er fields of barren snow, 
Thou wast a monarch, thoughtful, wise, and strong, 
Born to command amid the busy throng, 
A victor in the war of daily life : 



216 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 

Rest here immortal, from thy earthly strife. 
Here love and life and hope, subduing fate, — 
Here joy and mirth and wisdom live and wait. 
Drop down in silence, shed a bitter tear ; 
For, dust to dust, we end our being here. 



AND OTHER POEMS 217 

EPITAPH. 

ACROSTIC. 

Let them here slumber ; let their bodies rest. 
Ever with the father's, let the son's be blest. 
Let all mankind their goodness ever praise, 
And glorify the father's toil and days. 
Nor let proud poverty his wealth e 'er scorn — 
Dare seek life 's gems, ye can with them adorn. 

So mark thy course, whatever be thy fate, 
Thy mind content will ne 'er thy neighbor hate. 
A wise decree has caused their lot to be 
Not different from nor more content than ye. 
From out their bounty they gave all their stores, — 
O mortal man, what can ye more with yours ? 
Regard their loss, on earth a parent's joy — 
Dear as your own, theirs was an only boy. 

Judge not harshly, nor mock at His decree ; 

United yet will son and parents be. 

Not long life's dawn until its evening close 

In death to slumber — calm and sweet repose : 

Oh precious thought, — when from that sleep we rise, 

Rest is eterne beyond the starry skies ! 



218 BIECH-ROD DAYS 

And where they rest will Wisdom ever weep, 
Nor years nor time will vigil cease to keep — 
Dare Art be watchful — Science never sleep. 

Shall not his memory down to ages go ? 
Enduring fame will son and parents know. 
Never will California cease to praise 
In after years the wisdom of his ways. 
On earth their bounty nobly did they place- 
Rest, benefactors of the human race. 



AND OTHER POEMS 219 

OUR COMBINATION. 

I. 

You may talk about Theatricals, throw the Circus in, 
But we away in Crawford now can raise a greater din ; 
The grandest aggregation 's here that ever hit the rail, 
Each day we give performances that please and never 

fail; 
You should see our street parades as the wagons go the 

round, 
To gather up the oil supplies for the easels whence 

they're bound. 

II. 

The builders on the derricks are trapeze men in the air ; 
The drillers at the walking beams, are tumblers as it 

were, 
They tumble down the iron stem, that brings you up 

the oil; 
And tumble down the casings, with the bull-wheel and 

its coil. 
You should see the wells come in, the shooters shoot the 

rocks, 
Then when the oil shoots in the air, you sigh for 

Standard stocks. 



220 BIRCH-EOD DAYS 

III. 

The dry holes are the elephants, the herd is very small ; 

The lease jumpers the hyenas, the meanest breed of all ; 

The pipe-line men the lions ; the line is noAV complete ; 

And pumping oil to Bayonne, a star performance feat ; 

Ten wonder working engines in the power house at 
Stoy, 

Send ninety thousand barrels a day from fields of Il- 
linois. 

IV. 

Our combine's large and reaching out, it is among the 

best; 
The ticket seller's gaining -wealth for both the east and 

west. 
Like magic now our city grows the prospects brightest 

day, 
And stars from Pennsylvania here are building homes 

to stay. 
Come out and see our canopy, Old Glory floats above. 
Where oil now gladdens many hearts — the country you 

will love. 



AND OTHER POEMS 221 



AN EPISODE. 

She cried, and her tears, how sweet ! 
Her handsome form was trim and neat. 
When asked the reason of the fuss, 
Her only answer was, ' ' That Gus ! ' ' 

speak ! I said — an answer came— 
"No, no sir! little he's to blame. 

A kiss, he stole, it was no muss — 

1 cried, forsooth, because that Gus — " 

I said again, "A stolen kiss 

From such a fair and handsome miss, 

Is battery in the first degree!" 

Her answer, — ''What! Gus kissing me? 

Quoth I to her, ' ' He well doth know, 
A stolen kiss is but a blow. 
A grave offence, I'd fine, as judge !" 
Her sweet reply to me was, "Fudge ! ' ' 



222 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 

LUXURY AND EASE. 

Luxury, I long for thee ! 
And beckon Ease come live with me — 

Then will I be content ! 
There's little else man wants below, 
Few will ever that little know — 

' Tis Heaven's choice blessing sent. 

' Tis not a luxury I crave, 

In indolence and wealth to lave — 

A life I would deplore ; 
For bonds, nor gold, lull not to rest 
The anguish of a troubled breast, 

Nor bring content in store. 

Not for the ease of idle thought 

Which wealth hath its possessor taught, 

Longs now my heart, nor sighs ; 
But the Ease I long to taste 
Is with content to be well graced, 

Such, treasure never buys. 

Aye, fawning man! thy sordid mind 
In pomp of power expects to find 
True ease and rich repose. 



AND OTHER POEMS 223 

Tis only when thy cup is filled, 
With bitter dregs life has distilled, 
The emptiness then shows. 

The tallest oak must bend and break 
Before the storms that will o 'ertake, 

Though seeming ever strong ; 
The proudest warrior in his power 
Will crumble like the castle 's tower — 

Be silent dust ere long. 

Ah, Luxury and Ease, I ween 
Comes from a happy go between — 

Seek not to emulate 
The one who thirsts alone for Fame, 
For Gold, or an Undying Name — 

Have pity for such fate ! 

Aye, happiness you'll find most dear, 
If found in life, is always near, 

No matter where you roam; 
You seek for Ease in distant climes; 
And Luxury in propitious times — 

To find them at thy Home. 



224 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 



ALLIE. 

Last night, in dreams, I saw her face, 
Her darling form to me was near ; 

Her beauty, charms and lovely grace 
Brought to my eyes a gladsome tear. 

Allie, I thought, was with me there, 
And out" two hearts beat now as one, 

In bliss and happiness we were 
From twilight until morning 's sun. 

In childish sports we mingled o'er, 
And we of Nature 's sweets partake ; 

She was to me the same as yore, 
I loved her for love 's own sweet sake. 

'Twas but a dream that to me came — 
A fleeting dream — 'tis come ! 'tis fled ! 

Would I were yet in bliss the same, 
With my lost Allie dear, instead. 



AND OTHER POEMS 225 



THE LITTLE PHYSICIAN. 

There is no type of man 

Among all I can scan, 
Assumes such a mystical air, 

As the little physician — 

A kind of magician— 
A man of some unction, as 'twere. 

He is always quite dapper, 

Remarked as a snapper, 
Important in the superlative degree ; 

And when called to a case, 

Assumes such a wise face, 
You are struck with the wisdom you see ! 

Polite, to a fault, 

He bows should you halt, 
And tips a small hat which he wears ; 

With his pill-bags and cane, 

Tho' seemingly vain, 
'Tis only his knowingsome airs. 

When he visits the ill, 
With powder and pill, 



226 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 

Prescribes for a patient with brains ; 
His bump of conceit 
Is the first thing yon meet, 

As you lie there, racking with pains. 

As an expert, I ween, 

No other I've seen, 
Can theorize in, and then out ; 

A hypothetical case, 

He states with such grace, 
As convinces beyond reasonable doubt. 

But his faults are all laid, 

Where the willow's deep shade 
Obscures them forever from view, 

As you pause to reflect, 

And can only suspect 
The devil will some day get his due. 

For there's no type of man 

Among all I can scan, 
Assumes such a mystical air, 

As the little physician — 

A kind of magician — 
A man of some unction, as 'twere. 



AND OTHER POEMS 227 

WHAT IS LIFE ? 

Is life not an empty bubble ; 

But an iridescent dream? 
Only a wave of trouble 

Pushing man along the stream? 

Is life real, or a fancy spell 

To men mortal given, 
That teaches to abhor a hell, 

And to adore a heaven? 

Can it be said the daily task 

Of mortals here below, 
If 'twere exposed without a mask 

Would many pleasures show? 

Will not the toiler for his bread, 

Who bends the same each day, 
Still have the same enduring dread 

Of starvation 's debt to pay ? 

'Tis ever toil, and ever strife, 

From morn until the sun 
Closes the evening of our life, 

And Man his race has run ! 



228 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 

Yet, still this life is full of Hope, 
And he who battles strong, 

Is able with the world to cope — • 
Happy as he goes 'long. 

'Twas made, that we might toil and plan 

For our existence here, 
God will reward the struggling man — 

Let each be of good cheer. 



AND OTHER POEMS 229 

MY MARY. 

My Mary is a charming girl, 

I will not underrate her ; 
So fair is she that a' the rest 

Wi ' spite and envy hate her. 

deep is an artesian well ; 

And deeper yet the ocean ; 
Still deeper in my bosom is 

My love and my devotion. 

1 11 gather daisies in the spring, 

To glad her heart with flowers ; 
On leafy trees the birds will sing, 

While we sit 'neath the bowers. 

The honey-bee still sips and sips 

The honey frae the rose, 
But I ha' found upon her lips 

Far sweeter honey grows. 

'Tis her I wish some day to wed, 

My darling little fairy; 
The violets blue and roses red 

I'll pluck and gie my Mary. 



230 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 

CHANGES. 

To think the changes that take place, 
What time will bring around ; 

You look now on some boyish face — 
The future man of town. 

Some boy who once was very poor, 

Fortune, the fickle Dame, 
Knocks at his splendid mansion door, 

And tells us of his fame ! 

And Fortune whispers with joy and pride, 

In accents ciear and loud: 
' ' Should my favors be on your side, 

Be thou not vain nor proud. 

"For humble yet thy lot may grow ; 

Act wisely every day ; 
And learn a lesson ; 'tis well to know 

That Fortune may fly away ! 

' ' Just think how few are the people left 

"We mingled with of yore; 
How many families now bereft 

That ne 'er knew grief before ! 



AND OTHER POEMS 231 

' ' And think how time will Fortune change, 

All things, and people, too ; 
O'er all the universal range 

Things change, and so will you.'* 



232 BIRCH-BOD DA£S 



THREE PLAGUES. 

Regret for the past! why, have none! 

Best banish dull care away; 
For the past is gone, all that is done 

Is with us ever to stay. 

Grief, at the present ! tell me, 

Will it do a whit of good? 
Earth's happiness we can all see 

Ever present if we would. 

Anxiety, for the future ! 

I merely wish to suggest, 
Life's sorrows we only nurture 

That misery be our guest. 

Three plagues of human existence ! 

Expel them all from the mind; 
'Twill help and be of assistance 

The pleasures of life to find. 



AND OTHER POEMS 233 



TO PORTIA. 

Sweet little girl, thy tender years 
Are now thine own, but soon one hears 

The call to a maturer life : 
But for thee we have little fears ; 

Life will be one of joy— not strife. 

To be happy, this life endears — 
Women I find our best compeers — 
I trust thou '11 some day be a wife, 
Sweet little girl. 

For there is nothing life so cheers, 

As the good wives we call our dears, 

Earth's pleasures then are rife: 
And fame divine which one reveres 

Will be far sweeter in this life, 
Sweet little girl. 



234 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 

DAUNT NOT THE SPIRIT. 

Daunt not the spirit, 

Let it be free 
As the winds that sweep 

'er land and sea ! 

Crush not the spirit, 

O let it roam, 
Free as the waves 

On ocean home ! 

Cage not the spirit, 

Let it run wild, 
Like to a laughing 

Wayward child ! 

Bind not the spirit, 

let it soar 
Always heavenward 

Toward Hope's bright star! 

Spirit of Mortal, 

Ever be proud! 
From day of thy birth 

Till wrapt in the shroud. 



AND OTHER POEMS 235 



FORGIVE, O THAT RELIGION! 

Forgive, that religion 

That teaches one to hate, 
A wandering, wayward brother 

That seeks thro ' another gate ! 

God help them to hold up in faith ; 

Forgive — it is a rarity; 
The only strength they have is — Hope, 

They've naught of Christian charity. 

To God and man alike unjust, 

They will their brothers wrong, 
"Not in Thee alone" have they put their trust, 

E'en tho' their prayers be long. 

They at the stake would gladly burn 

Those differing from their view ; 
O God, we trust thou wilt in turn 

Love and forgive them too. 



236 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 



TO MARY. 

Sweet woman, let me here confess 
The love I have for thee; 

A while no more thy lips I '11 press — 
Still wilt thou think of me ? 

My Mary, thou canst not forget 
Glad times we've had together, 

Dear are they to my memory yet, 
And dear will be forever. 

'Twas love, so gentle, kind and true, 
The love that never dies ; 

The while I bid thee now adieu, 
Thy love I '11 ever prize. 



AND OTHER POEMS 237 



TEMPORAL POWER. 

On a roof standing 

A Kid was bandying 
Words with a Wolf passing by : 

And began to defile hini, 

To taunt and revile him, 
Feeling quite safe up so high. 

Said the Wolf : ' ' Thee I hear, 

And thy cowardly jeer, 
But nqthing you say doth me shock ; 

'Tis the place where you stand — 

If I had you in hand, 
Not long, sir, me would you mock ! ' ' 

It is often the case, 

There 's advantage in place, 
And also in temporal power; 

One must not abuse it, 

Nor ever misuse it, 
But try and make every hour 



238 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 

A remembrance spot, 

"Which memory will not 
Forget, but ever will treasure ; 

Or else you'll disgrace 

Not only the place, 
But yourself, likewise, in a measure. 



AND OTHER POEMS 239 



WHAT IS THERE BETTER MAN CAN DO ? 

What is there better man can do 

Than lead a Christian 's life ; 
The vices of this world eschew — 

Its never ending strife? 
Ah, it is sweet to work for heaven, 

And do the Master's will, 
For God will all our sorrows leaven, 

His promises fulfill. 

It is sublime for man to work 

Like the Savior of his kind, 
And never from life 's duties shirk, 

But try more good to find ; 
To ever try the good to teach, 

That men may better grow, 
And by kind deeds their hearts to reach, 

God's saving grace to know. 

'Tis noble then each day to give 
The time, the thought, the care, 

So long as God gives life to live 
To fight the tempter 's snare. 



240 BIRCH-ROD DATS 

The good we do in life will be 
A credit to our soul; 

The man of good will ever see- 
God will His deeds enroll. 



AND OTHER POEMS 241 

TRUE MIGHT. 

Boasting, the North Wind said to the Sun : 

"Never by yon will I be outdone ; 
I am more powerful and will try 

Who shall be victor — you or I." 

' ' Then, ' ' said the Sun, ' ' this I propose, 
I will use warm and you may use blows, 

On yonder traveler, and we'll try 
Whether you can first strip his cloak or I." 

Then blew the North Wind a vigorous blast, 
The shivering traveler held his cloak fast; 

The strong North Wind failed after an hour 
To remove the cloak by might or power. 

Beaming out brightly the Sun then shone 
In genial warmth from his royal throne ; 

No longer cold, the man cast in delight 

The cloak the Wind failed to remove by siight 

And from that time to the present day 

A kind, gentle manner, best will pay ; 
Persuasion is better than use of force, 

A manner humane the wiser course. 



242 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 

Tears of affection are precious things; 

Tears of subjection sure sorrow brings ; 
Tears of force to the eyes of sorrow 

Bring never a joy for the bright tomorrow. 



AND OTHER POEMS 243 



DISCRETION. 

'Twas summer hot, 

The lake was not 
Deep water for a home ; 

'Twould soon go dry, 

'Twas best to hie — 
Two froggies thought to roam. 

So off they went 

On water bent, 
And searched all o'er the plain; 

When soon they found 

A well, large, round, 
The sun could never drain. 

"Into it, plump, 

Come, let us jump! 
It is delicious, cool ! 

'Tis not good wit, 

Just wait a bit ! ' ' 
Said the other: "Deep's the pool 



244 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 

If it were dry 
With walls so high, 

How could we e'er get out? 
We 'd better stay 
In the lake ; some day 

'Twill rain beyond a doubt. ' ' 

'Tis sense, I think 

When on the brink 
Of a danger-threatening place, 

When peril's great, 

Never to wait, 
But quick one's steps retrace. 



AND OTHER POEMS 245 



SUMMER'S LABOR. 



One cold, frosty day, 

An Ant ate away 

On food which we may 

Gather in summer 
When we feel well and gay. 

A Grasshopper, half fed, 
From hunger nigh dead, 
Besought her for bread: 
"When 'tis not summer 
'Twas a hard life he led." 

"What were you doing? 
What trade pursuing ? 
Why were you not viewing 
The fields of the summer 
For the winter ensuing ? ' ' 

Said the Grasshopper gay : 
' ' I danced every day, 
And was singing alway, 
Thinking the summer 
Would forever here stay. ' ' 



246 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 

Said the Ant, cheerily : — 
Singing then merrily — 
"This I say, verily: 

Who labors not summer, 
Winters pass drearily. ' f 



AND OTHER POEMS 247 

DISSENSION. 

Four Bulls were calmly feeding 

Upon the summer's grass; 
A Lion lay in ambush 

Waiting to make a pass. 

But while they fed together, 

He would not make them prey ; 
They guarded well each other 

And cared not to estray. 

The Lion at last succeeded 

In making an aversion ; 
By jealousy he breeded 

In causing a dispersion. 

Then when the Bulls were separate 

And from each other gone, 
'Twas easy to annihilate 

And eat them one by one. 

'Tis ever thus dissensions will, 

Among the best of friends, 
Breed nothing good, but only ill — - 

On peace success depends. 



248 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 

MY LADY FAIR. 

Entwine thy hair, my lady fair, 

With roses off the lea; 
The dewy rose that fragrant grows 

To glad thy heart and me. 
Upon its stem a diadem 

So lustrous to behold ; 
Though sweet indeed upon the mead, 

Sweet in thy hair of gold. 
Then deck thy hair — these roses rare 

Seem fit and gay for thee ; 
In beauty glows the lovely rose 

I '11 pluck and bring to thee. 

O ! golden hair, that will compare 

With the mermaids of the sea ; 
! starlit eyes, 'mid sunny skies, 

Where wealth and beauty be! 
Thou dost beguile, with radiant smile, 

By thy beauteous self I swear, 
Thy wealth of bliss I will not miss, 

But seek and with thee share. 
Then will I twine, O lady mine, 

About thy golden hair 
The fairest rose the heather grows, 

To deck thee, lady fair. 



AND OTHER POEMS 249 

SCOTCH LETTER. 

The wind is blawing very cauld. 
As now my paper I enfauld 
To write unto my ain dear name, 
Wi' mony a wish you're blest in same. 
I 'm very well, and God be thankit, 
I 'm able, as of auld, to shankit. 
Sometimes I 'm happy wi ' my lot, 
Sometimes I 'm sad — why, I wot not ; 
But still it gi'es me greatest joy 
To wat I'm Mither's darlin' boy. 
I read an' write a' the day long, 
Blaekstone, Metealf, an' syne a song; 
O'er Tarn O'Shanter I laugh by turns, 
Wrote by the poet Robert Burns. 
I hae na wife, I hae na dame, 
God grant I ne'er may hae the same : 
For I'm content to live alone — 
Mony's the troubles then I'll shun — 
Then ilka day, and ilka hour 
That I hae time and hae the power ; 
To write shall be my greatest ettle — 
Ah, gin I o'ly hae the mettle. 
But to my letter, I have left it, 
An' a' the gither wandered frae it; 



250 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 

Na mair I dare na trifle wi' you, 
Sic clish-ma-claver as I do gie you, 
I ken, does bother auld folks greatly ; 
I '11 ask, is she still proud an ' stately,— 
My wordy beast, my weel gaun filly ? 
There ne'er was better than auld Milly. 
Oh, denna keep her poor and knaggie, 
Gie meikle corn to her auld baggie ; 
Wi' fond caress on mony a day, 
Gie to her meikle oats an' hay. 
Mayst thou hae meikle to eat an' drink, 
An' aye enough o' needful clink. 
An ' neist, how is my bonnie sister ? 
God bless her an ' her guid auld mither- 
An' also bless her guid auld daddie — 
I'll bless ye a', your bonnie laddie. 
To a', my everlastin', never dyin' — 
An' sure, I canna keep frae cryin', 
For as I write, I ken one ither 
I 'd rather see, than meet her brither, 
Who lives awa ' in our auld town, 
A better one canna be foun' — 
In bonnie boys it aye surpasses ; 
In comely maids, an' bonnie lasses. 
Sinna I canna now be wi' you, 
Still be happy as I bid adieu ; 



AND OTHER POEMS 251 

An' if I should be slee an' funny, 
Pray think o ' me, your ain guid sonnie ; 
An' of 'en write a guid auld letter, 
Naught there is will please me better ; 
Careless is he who aye postpones — 
Remember 

Truly, 

Will C. Jones. 



252 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 

CRAFTY. 

A Fox, who never a Lion 

Had seen until that day, 
Crouched meekly with fear before him, 

In a fearfully frightened way. 

But upon a second meeting 
He 'd lost some of his fright, 

And talked with the Lion boldly, 
As if it were a right. 

At his third visit, emboldened, 

He to the Lion said: 
"When first I saw a Lion 

I had an awful dread ; 

But I find from close acquaintance — 

I often see and hear, 
With those we term the mighty, 

That greatness flees when near. 

And familiarity breeds, sir, 
Contempt, likewise, I know." 

"Begone!" said the Lion; "villain! 
Crafty, as well as low. ' ' 



AND OTHER POEMS 253 



THE FIRESIDE. 

I love to sit by the winter 's lire, 

And enjoy its warmth to my heart's desire, 

With life 's affairs no more perplext, 

In my favorite book I peruse the text — 

The lord of a castle all my own, 

And as glad as a king on his royal throne. 

To the cheerful blaze come merry souls, 
With faces bright as the glowing coals. 
Too soon these ties the years may sever, 
And those we love may be gone forever. 
The ties of home are more dear to me 
Than anything else in life I see. 

The winds may whistle around the roof ; 
From the chilling storms I can keep aloof; 
And I look about for the near and dear ; 
And feel and know that we all are here. 
There is naught in life to me but this — 
The sweet content of domestic bliss. 



254 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 

The pleasures of home let us all enjoy ! 
With its innocent gladness your time employ 
For life is fleeting— a passing breath; 
The young and the old soon fall in death. 
Of the pleasures of life we ask but this — 
The sweet content of domestic bliss. 



AND OTHER POEMS 255 



CHRISTMAS. 



I still love to think of scenes like this, 

Of days now long since gone; 
When I was a child in my hallowed bliss, 

A boy — an only one. 
On Christmas eve my stockings were hung- 

"Old Santa" was sure to come; 
And merry hearts made merry tongue, 

And we were all at home. 

Those days are past and I a boy 

Older in years have grown ; 
Yet still, when I think, it gives me joy 

To know them once my own ! 
I am far from home this Christmas day, 

Where I but meet and bow, 
No friends greet — I 'm sick and away — 

Christmas is lonely now. 

I think of it all — hear every word— 

The circle is formed, I know ; 
By merry hands the fire is stirred— 

I see its cheerful glow. 



256 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 

Think they of me? I am with them there 
In the midst of Christmas rings, 

Tho' I feel the sting of a silent tear 
My lonely Christmas brings. 

I am thinking now, yes, thinking now, 

Of distant pleasure climes; 
Plighting myself in a silent vow 

For future Christmas times ! 
The time speeds slow ; ! my heart's distress ! 

On this long, lonely day — 
Yet I wile me away from its dreariness 

Thinking of friends far away. 



AND OTHER POEMS 257 

AN ILL-SORTED LEAGUE. 

A Mouse, on one ill-omened day, 

Made the acquaintance of a Frog, 
When, after making a short stay, 

They started off upon a jog. 

The Frog he feigned a great affection 

To keep his friend the Mouse from harm; 

And urged it was for her protection 
To have her tied unto his arm. 

"When, coming nigh unto a brook, 

The Frog said : ' ' Come, have courage, swim, ' ' 
And with a plunge the Frog then took 

The frightened Mouse in after him. 

The Mouse went floundering about, 
And did a great commotion make ; 

Until a kite, them spying out, 
Concluded both of them to take. 

And pouncing down she caught the Mouse, 

Thus tied so tightly to the Frog, 
And bore them from their watery house, 

And straightway ate them on a log. 



258 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 

Ill-matched alliances always end 

Just like that of the Frog and Mouse. 

For none who read will e'er contend 
Two such as they could keep one house. 

And one who will his neighbor trap, 
Or foully set for him a snare, 

Will find himself in some mishap 
Before he fully is aware. 



AND OTHER POEMS 259 

AN ILL-FORMED ALLIANCE. 

A Lion roaming on the pebbly shore 
Espied a Whale on the surface basking, 

And calling to him in a loud roar, 
Began these questions asking: 

" As I am the king of the lands, 

And you the king of the seas, 
Would it not be proper that we join hands 

And have power to do as we please ? 

The Whale to assent to this seemed glad, 

And promised with right good will, 
For neither of them a doubt then had 

He couldn't his promises fulfill. 

It chanced the Lion was first in a fight, 

Attacking a Bull one day, 
And he called to the Whale with all his might, 

To take the Bull's gores away. 

The Whale would gladly have joined in the fray, 

But he was unable to leave the sea, 
Tho' the Lion his friend he would not betray, 

Yet he proved but a poor ally to be. 



260 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 

It is best when you form any compact, 
On the land or on the sea, 

That all of the parties to the act 
Are able and will all agree. 

And then, too, before the contracting, 
Be careful — make no mistake — 

That both the contracting parties 
Can do all they undertake. 



AND OTHER POEMS 261 

DECEPTION. 

A Roman rich, in days of yore, 
For friends had often good in store ; 
Sometimes a feast, sometimes a show 
To which his neighbors were to go. 
One day he proffered a reward 
To him who offered the best card — 
That is, to him who would play best— 
Anrase the people by joke or jest. 

Contesting artists did arrive, 
Each with the other soon to strive ; 
Incited, eager for the prize, 
Each tried his best to seem most wise. 
Reports went round, the neighbors nocked 
Until the Forum fairly rocked 
With eager people, there to see 
Conjurers of such high degree. 

A Mountebank gave out, one day. 
That he had something new to play ; 
Something which he would vouch no age 
Had yet produced on any stage : 
Amid amazement and suspense, 
Without assistants, stepping hence ; 



262 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 

Mimicked a pig, so like the squeal 
The audience thought the pig was real. 

Some said the pig was 'neath his cloak, 
And claimed the trick to be a joke. 
Others insisted on a search, 
Intent the clever trick to smirch. 
They searched the showman — searched him well- 
To the audience they would tell 
That nothing upon him could be found. 
Applause went high, round after round. 

A Farmer 'mongst his neighbors sat, 
Observed the trick not new, and that 
He could perform in better style, 
Which caused his fellows all to smile. 
The morrow came, with it the crowd, 
All ready with their praises loud 
Of Mountebank, who stepping front, 
Could mimic both the squeal and grunt. 

Up went the hands of audience all, 
Cheer after cheer that would appall 
The Farmer, who began to feel 
For ears of a pig that was real. 
He pinched the ears and pulled the tail, 



AND OTHER POEMS 263 



His pig to squeal would never fail ; 
The audience hissed at every sound, 
Until the squeal was fairly drowned. 

' ' Romans, I see you love deceit, 
Discard the real for the cheat ; 
Applaud the mimic of the squeal, 
And hiss at one you know is real. ' ' 
Then, much to everyone's surprise, 
He placed the pig before their eyes. 
And do not we who live to-day 
Deceive ourselves in the same way? 



264 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 



LIFE'S GRAPES. 

Ripe, lovely grapes, but trellised high, 

A roving Fox by chance did spy ; 
And as they hung in a sunny glow 

They were to the Fox a tempting show. 
Reynard by many a vain leap tries 

To get a taste of the longed-for prize, 
But finding possession quite out of his power, 

Said: "It matters not; the grapes are sour." 
So the grapes of life, which ofttimes we 

So dearly covet whenever we see, 
But finding them beyond our reach, 

Like the sly old Fox, ' ' sour grapes ' ' we preach. 



AND OTHER POEMS 265 

THE MISER. 

All that he had a Miser sold, 
Receiving therefore a lump of gold, 

Which he buried away 

Where it wouldn 't pay, 

Into a hole that very day. 
It was a very secluded spot, 
At least that is what the Miser thought — 

By the side of a wall, 

Once stately, tall, 

But demolished all, 
Scattering a pile of sand and brick — 
No better place could a Miser pick. 

Daily the Miser went that way, 
Frequent his visits, short his stay ; 

And it was his delight 

To know it was tight 

In a hole out of sight — 
Away under the ground, safe and sound 
From mercenary people tramping 'round. 

For in a measure 

His only pleasure 

Was in this treasure. 
And none can tell what the Miser thought, 
Or the heavenly joy this treasure brought. 



266 BIRCH-BOD DAYS 

A little caution I would advise, 
Tho ' extra caution 's not overwise ; 

Was the thief's thought 

Who marked the spot 

And formed a plot 
To dig into the Miser's treasure, 
Then carry it away at pleasure, 

At dead of night, 

When there was no light 

To mark his flight. 
It was thought to be cunning, crafty, bold- 
The way the Miser lost his gold. 

At his next visit the Miser found 
Naught but a hole— a hole in the ground 

Then he tore his hair, 

In his great despair, 

And sorrow there. 
Imagine a lifetime 's pleasure lost ! 
Then think of the trouble this treasure cost. 

Oh, wretched man ! 

More miserable than 

All earthly clan! 
And the Miser wished that he was dead, 
For the joys of life for him had fled. 



AND OTHER POEMS 267 

A friend found him east down with grief, 
And ministered thus to his relief: 

"Pray, why dost grieve? 

Sir, by your leave, 

A stone 1 11 heave 
Into the hole, you may fancy gold — 
'Twill answer your purpose at least tenfold. ' ' 

For you are aware, 

When your gold was there, 

The only care 
Was its safety— not its use to lend — 
Then a stone is a thing you cannot spend. ' ' 

But the Miser in life no more joy found ; 
Soon died and was buried in the ground, 

Without oration, 

Without ovation, 

By the donation 
Of some kind friends — there were but few 
Who in his lifetime the Miser knew. 

His grave so lone 

Now bears a stone, 

With words his own: 
"Miserable! Miserly! Heed, my friend— 
For the wants of life your money spend." 



268 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 

THE REWARD OF STEALTH. 

Reynard was blessed with a bushy tail, 
Of lovely hair he was wont to trail — 

No other's was more graceful. 
He thought he had unbounded wit— 
At least a plenty to care for it, 

And carried it quite graceful. 
But people will always a thief abhor, 
And against them wage continual war. 

Reynard kept stealing, year after year, 

The neighborhood poultry without fear, 
That justice would o'ertake him. 

He would prowl by night and sneak by day, 
Gobbling up chickens that came in his way, 
Thinking luck would not forsake him. 

But Reynard staying out one night quite late, 

Met this, a most untimely fate. 

Reynard, while stealing, fell into a trap, 
And tho' full of vigor and full of snap, 

Energy was of no avail. 
Serious trouble ! His thoughts came quick, 
Only one remedy — cut off slick 

His beautiful bushy tail. 



AND OTHER POEMS 269 

Sensible he was to this disgrace, 
Sensible too of the time and place. 
Resolving, however, to make the best 
Of a matter bad, he said to the rest : 

"Foxes, it is with joy I hail 
The convenience with which I move about, 
I feel quite at ease, and should you doubt, 

Do away with your bushy tail. ' ' 
But scorn and laughter were heaped upon 
The unfortunate Fox when he had done. 



270 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 



OPPRESSION. 

A Wolf stole down on a shepherd 's fold, 

And seized a Lamb, in a manner bold, 
And began to bear it off to his lair, 

Intent upon making a meal of it there ; 
When a Lion, switching his tail in wrath, 

Suddenly leaped across his path, 
And boldly seized the Lamb from his jaw, 

Then scowled at the Wolf who stood in awe. 
"That Lamb was unrighteously taken from me, 

'Tis mine, ' ' said the Wolf, entreatingly. 
' ' What ! Yours ? ' ' the Lion jeeringly said, 

As he tossed his mane and shook his head. 
- ' Might makes right, else you 'd not have had 

The shepherd's lamb — a meal not bad. 
You know that the strong the weak oppress — 

A truth I am sure you will confess. ' ' 



AND OTHER POEMS 271 



TREACHEROUS FRIENDSHIP. 

Over hill and dale, by the Hound pursued, 
A fleet-foot Hare was at last subdued; 

First the Hound would bite, as her life to take, 
Then fondle and feign amends to make. 

"0 that you were sincere," then said the Hare; 

''Pray show by your colors what you are; 
If my true friend you are, why bite so hard? 

If my enemy, why show me regard ? 

"Those whom we can neither trust nor distrust 

Are not true friends that treat us just ; 
Better the hate of an enemy, 
That feigning friendship and base treachery." 



272 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 



COINS. 

In life can love be bought with gold? 
You answer, No ! Why yes, I 'm told 
That gold will purchase love ; indeed 
Gold buys all things, and will succeed 
In buying love, but not love true — 
True love won 't sell — it gives itself to you. 

Modesty, thou art a jewel to youth rare, 
And yet, an ornament all should wear ; 
Presaging genius to youths who fill the page 
Of modest effort and ripe studious age. 

Character is ever stock in trade, 

The more we have the better we are made 

To know the things around, and to possess 

The things of earth on which we place most stress. 

Live that you may each day succeeding know 
That on the morrow you will still have show; 
'Tis no disgrace economizing thy purse, 
But to outlive it always proves a curse. 



AND OTHER POEMS 273 

The pride of wealth, have pity on his soul ; 
The pride of learning, always him cajole ; 
The pride of dignity, little's to console ; 
The pride of bigotry nothing can condole. 

I never mind my p 's and q's ; 
Or dot my i's or cross my t's ; 
Upside I always find my u 's ; 
And y, forsooth, my love of v's ? 

Oh age ! cruel condition of this life, 
Each year our enjoyments you make less rife ; 
Decrease our pleasures and increase our pains ; 
Lessen our desire to live — increase death's gains. 

Hope, thou art a flatterer, upright and just ; 
In thee life's weary pilgrims put their trust; 
The poor man 's hut, the mansions of the rich 
Alike, with one accord, thou dost bewitch. 

Base as a currency, tho ' paid at court, 
Thou art, O Flattery, a dernier resort ; 
By common custom, a coin quite often paid, 
Tho' base and worthless, yet good stock in trade, 



274 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 

Thank God, the resurrection bone will stay 
Impervious to death, and to all decay ; 
Fire will not burn it, nor hammer break, 
Mills cannot grind it, nor water slake. 

Life 's wicked gayeties 'round which men cling, 
First bring them pleasure, then to ruin bring ; 
Like the volcanic mount whose surface grows with 

flowers, 
But desolate soon amid scoriae showers. 

The stars are pearls of the unclouded night, 
As truths are pearls of sorrow to teach the right ; 
And often a bitter truth, when well impressed, 
Has proven useful, and its owner blest. 

'Tis ease and luxury that obscures the mind, 
While poverty doth its possessor grind ; 
But grinding sharpens — 'tis a school whence 
Its graduates have success immense. 

We grieve as life speeds by, yet have no care, 
And long each period past the new to share ; 
The youth longs ever to be of full age ; 
The business man for busiest stage ; 



AND OTHER POEMS 275 

One seeks life 's honors to be known as great, 
And seldom is content on time to wait ; 
With all regretful we all soon aspire 
To gain life's rest — to be at ease, retire. 

Stars ! Pearls of darkness, make resplendent night ; 
Truths ! Pearls of sorrow, teach us to know the right. 
Beauty, thou dost with thy unerring glance 
The souls of guileless men to thee entrance ; 

Thy art 's alluring, and thou dost succeed — 
An hypnotizer thou art indeed. 
While yet an angel, thou hast reptile wings, 
And waste thy sweetness on too many things. 

Bear well misfortune with a Christian's zeal, 
The world will let you bear without appeal; 
The Christian fortitude so oft expressed — 
Grief for their own — deeming yours a jest. 

Man strives for wealth to find his trouble grows, 
And strives for knowledge to find he little knows. 
Contemn not men until they've injured you, 
And when they have, detest and them eschew. 



276 BIECH-EOD DAYS 

Of all the actions of a wise man 's life, 
There's none so great as to choose a wife ; 
His marriage mankind should the least concern, 
To meddle with it most his neighbors yearn. 

A hero is a soul, who, sick with ills, 
Can be induced to take physicians ' pills ; 
'Tis true they will amuse a sick man 's mind 
Until they kill, or nature cure will find. 

'Tis well to think well, divine to act right, 
But he does most who does one act contrite. 



AND OTHER POEMS 277 

I. 

THE RELATION OF MAN TO NATURE. 

Into the world most helpless being born, 
Is Man — made like his God, earth to adorn ; 
Yet he, proud son of God 's eternal hand, 
Boasts mastery o 'er the boundless sea and land ; 
To death, this atom, creature of the earth, 
If left uneared for, doomed is he at birth ; 
But from his first until his final breath 
Asserts o 'er all the rights of life and death. 
Unable what the hour shall bring and where 
To tell, yet to interpret and declare 
God's laws, assumes he — ways of the most high; 
The heavens measures, maps out earth and sky; 
Marks planets' orbits; and courses define 
Of worlds — no longer human but divine ! 
Sport of the elements ! Imperial child ! 
Lifeless he falls if but the air's defiled 
With vapor invisible ; and quakes with fear 
If but the voice of thunder he doth hear. 
Man, who, like the grass, to-day is glorious, . 
To-morrow withered, and death victorious. 
Assumes to rule o'er the eternal hills; 
And rivals Him who rides on clouds, and wills 



278 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 

The lightning's flash, the torrent's pour; 

The fire-cloud's burst that warned the men of yore. 

Upon the wave this raindrop takes control 

Of infinite seas, where boundless billows roll. 

Thus, man hath glory, splendor, honor, here, 

Created Lord of Earth, without a peer! 



II. 



My theme is Nature — how 'tis linked to Man, 

And Man to Nature — strange and mighty plan ! 

What 's meant by Nature ? Comprehensive term ! 

Nature, and super-nature, we affirm 

Are often talked about, nor vain 

Our efforts here to separate the twain. 

To draw the line at just the limit 

Of human knowledge, think not for a minute ; 

For no man dares to say that Nature goes 

Only so far as his experience knows. 

No one should be allowed to e 'er contend, 

Concerning things he cannot comprehend; 

And say the unobserved is but a miracle, 

Nor term God's mysteries empirical. 

The highest knowledge still is uncontrolled, 

For Nature will the strangest things unfold, 

Take planets Neptune, Saturn, Mars and Jove — 



AND OTHER POEMS 279 

Bright, shining stars, celestial worlds above : 

Can sage explain the ruby hue of Mars ? 

Neptune's construction, that of other stars? 

Is Saturn made of rock, and that bright ring 

Entwined around its disk, the, wondrous thing — 

Is it an iron forged and made a tire 

At Vulcan's smithy, kept in galling fire? 

He used to work in days erstwhile, we 're told, 

On Aetna's height, and various things did mould. 

The greatest, grandest one of his invention 

Was woman, named Pandora — her I'll mention. 

Yet, palaces for Mars, and for Achilles arms ; 

A golden chain for Juno ; other charms 

He made ; and thunder-bolts for Jove he hurled, 

That tore asunder, rent the reeling world 

In desolation— made the boldest quake, 

And cities crumble, as when earthquakes shake ; 

A wondrous smith ! And from his forge and fire 

Was not Saturna girded by that tire ? 

By Jove's high orders, then did he aspire 

To whip Saturna, take his royal throne 

And rule among the Gods in power alone ? 

Tell me, ye wise men, are these planets water, 

Rock, forest, iron, gold, or other matter? 

Gold, did I say? — not gold, I mean it not, 

For if our sons of fair Columbia thought 



280 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 

Gold was, no matter where, if near or far, 

In unknown worlds, or in some shining star, 

They'd seek it, get it, dig it, grind it new, 

And clean it, mint it, coin it, hoard it, too. 

You ask me how they'd get it — please don 't fret, 

Stars are in mystery, undiscovered yet. 

The planet Venus, distant to our view, 

By telescope we see its light, 'tis true. 

To tell the form or elements that make 

A larger instrument than known 'twill take. 

Yet Venus is a part of Nature's birth, 

Like planet we inhabit, called the Earth. 

By birth a part of Nature 's great creation, 

We may suppose it peopled by a nation. 

I do not know, but such is my suggestion, 

If not, what is it ? That is still the question. 

No one can say, with hope to be consistent, 

That by a miracle the Star's existent. 

For naught there is in Nature or her course, 

Or in the uses of her laws and force 

As supernatural, to be claimed by man ; 

Still, worlds are made on a mysterious plan. 

Water made wine, miraculous may seem ; 

If 'twere not done by chemicals, I'd deem 

It so. Accustomed to such changes, though, 

We speak of them as natural, also. 



AND OTHER POEMS 281 

To raise one from the tomb, scarce dead a day, 
Disputes the laws of life and of decay. 
'Tis very strange ! Not supernatural, no, 
'Tis Nature's proof, and only goes to show 
A higher law upon dull matter wrought 
Above the limit of the things we're taught. 

III. 

What's meant by Nature? That I'll try to tell, 
Will try to please, and try to do it well. 
The clustered worlds were made by God above, 
That Man, his proudest creature, here might move; 
Things physical, symmetrical, complex, 
Organic, inorganic, be our text ; 
The grain of sand upon the surging shore, 
The mighty waves, with loud resounding roar, 
The curling vapors, darkly heaped on high- 
Majestic clouds athwart the azure sky ; 
From microscopic atomies of life 
To monsters of the deep, with terrors rife. 
Gases and solids, rocks, planets, earth and air, 
All things which have a conscious being here. 

IV. 
Poor, foolish Man, his conscious powers obeying ; 
When born into this world, commences, saying : 



282 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 

"A mighty lord am I ! Who placed me here? 

I have no equal, either far or near. " 

Said Adam: "Do these beings rule my life? 

Pray, tell me that, my own, my darling wife." 

Said Eve: "Ne'er mind — I've found an apple sweet, 

Come here, dear Adam, come and freely eat. ' ' 

He looked and ate and was accursed then — 

His sin has cursed his race of fellow-men. 

What are we, then ? Whence come we ? Whither go ? 

We think, we reason, but we do not know. 

Oh, wretched man ! With all thy boasted powers, 

Thy joys are fleeting as the summer showers; 

In vain thy aspiration so sublime; 

Thy fondest hopes are doomed, and, like thy time, 

But speeds thee by ; vainly you clasp and cling, 

While Time still mocks at thee, and will thee bring 

Unto the grave. All reach that bound at last — 

Wrapt in oblivion, buried in the past. 



And how does Man to this vain world belong? 
Is his a race apart from all the throng ? 
Man bom with Nature, he must needs depend 
Upon kind Nature ever to him befriend. 
Man's physical constitution is the same, 



AND OTHER POEMS 283 

Of regular organism, him I'll name. 

And passions, too, the lordliest men do show 

Possessed by brute creation far below. 

We boast our lineage, and yet 'tis plain 

Are but of clay. 'Tis useless to be vain, 

For atoms of the grandest type of Man 

Are seen in members of the lower clan. 

The German flower-gardeners often say 

That Man is only water, carbon, ammonia. 

There 's no abstract existence, man 's first born 

Ere the spiritual world he can adorn. 

On earth, not freed from power of earthly bands— 

So like the beast, yet lord of many lands. 



VI. 



Organic matter ? There is not one kind 

In human frames, that elsewhere you'll not find. 

For tissues, muscles, bones and nerves of men ; 

The veins, cells, carbon and the hydrogen 

Are equally identical when found 

As in all other forms of life abound. 

The crumbled rock, the soil, the plant, the star, 

Each gives to us a part of what we are. 

It is no metaphor for one to say 

That man who lives on earth from day to day, 



284 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 

Lives in the trees ; lives in the leafy bowers ; 
Lives in the singing birds ; lives in the flowers ; 
Lives in the rifting clonds that float on high ; 
Lives in the vapor of the heavenly sky. 
Whether there's transmigration of the soul 
There's transmigration of our bodies whole 
In various other forms of life created — 
For soon our bodies must be transmigrated. 
We have alike a common substance given 
With evil things and with things fit for heaven. 
There's phosphorus in the lordliest of brains; 
And iron even in a prince 's veins. 
And this is man — the creature called sublime, 
The slave of matter, and the thrall of Time ! 
The Human body 's born, and then it dies, 
By death disintegrated where it lies. 

VII. 

Proud Man takes highest place ; in him we find 

The loftiest order of the scale in kind ; 

But 'tis not difficult for us to go 

From rocks to his self-conscious being, no ! 

For science now has clearly demonstrated — 

By physiologists 'tis promulgated — 

That human bodies, prior to their birth, 



AND OTHER POEMS 285 

Go through the grades of animals of earth. 

Humbling, it may be, to our human pride, 

Yet 'tis a fact we cannot well deride. 

In structure, Man's to animal more near 

Than animal to bird, for it is clear 

Man's skeleton is more like the baboon 

Than skeleton of bat is like the loon. 

So, too, mankind the lowest instincts share 

With lower animals, as wolf or bear. 

Our hands are beautiful, smooth, and wondrous fair, 

Yet like the claws of lions in their lair. 

In skull of wolf or hissing snake we find 

A brain like that of Man, whose mighty mind 

Has ruled the ages — passing strange, yet true ! 

From lower forms we rose to high and new. 

VIII. 

In days of yore the ancient fancies gleam 
In metamorphoses, and it would seem 
The Roman Ovid, writing of to-day 
In view of science, would unquestioned say : 
That animals and plants in growth adorn 
The brother man— a perfect being born. 
Our Natural History is incomplete 
If lacking lowest forms ; in order meet 



286 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 

The lichens, ferns and mosses must be counted 

Until our minds to higher forms have mounted. 

As well the sponge, the coral reef, and then 

It still is incomplete till we add men. 

Mars may perchance be peopled, or bright Jove, 

The Moon, or the bright Nebulae world above, 

With some yet strange, superior clan, 

Who have no known relation to our Man. 

Who think without brains, and fly without wings, 

Walk without feet, without a tongue still sings. 

Such beings dwell in our imagination — 

To our material world have no relation. 



IX. 



The various human traits we may describe 

By metaphors about the lower tribe. 

We say, as fierce as lion, sly as fox, 

Timid as a lamb, patient as an ox, 

Busy as bees, or like the goat capricious, 

Mild as a dove, like the hyena vicious. 

The dog — no greater or more faithful friend — 

To dwell on earth with mankind God did send ; 

No greater fondness shows the human mother 

Than does the hen which doth her chickens hover. 

For it is true in beasts we often see 



AND OTHER POEMS 287 

What praise we most in Man, a quality 
That fits the good man for the world above 
Where all is gladness, peace and joyous love. 



While it is true that Man cannot exist 
Without the lower races, they subsist ; 
The foxes have their holes, the birds their nest ; 
What has poor Man ? Not where to take his rest ! 
From first until the final breath gives way, 
These creatures minister to his wants each day ; 
With greater knowledge yet he scarce contrives 
To live without these low, inferior lives. 
That he must live, Man must breathe vital air, 
Must drink from fountains, water, cool and clear, 
Must feed on fruits of fields, the corn, the wheat, 
The flesh of animals compelled to eat. 
Man's mansion, home, to him a paradise, 
He doth of wood, earth, iron, stone, devise. 
Take but the natural elements away, 
Man could not live upon the earth a day. 
O Nature, Man doth all thy beauties love ! 
From atoms here to thy great works above ; 
He loves the beauteous landscape Nature made, 
With grouping trees, and cool and grateful shade. 



288 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 

Music 's ethereal voice which moves the soul 
Is but thy air, as sweet vibrations roll 
From trained voice of some great queen of song, 
Or music from the woods of winged throng. 
Thy works are varied for Man 's pleasure here, 
And Man is ever changing o 'er thy sphere ; 
For some are never happy where are trees ; 
Some have no joy without the balmy breeze; 
"While some may love to watch meandering rills ; 
Some love the prairies, others love the hills ; 
Some love to live beside the great blue sea, 
Some think it desolate as it can be. 
To some philosophy and pleasure hies, 
On cloudy days, amid the weeping skies. 



XI. 



Nature is needed to enrich Man's powers 

Which God has given us as truly ours ; 

This world is beauteous in sights and sounds ; 

With Nature 's myriad voices it abounds ; 

From rock, from river, tender flower and spray, 

Come ministers of joy for every day. 

Man must have Nature, with her fountains, rills, 

Her prairies, lawns, her woodlands, farms, and hills. 

Her birds, her beasts, her insects and her grain, 



AND OTHER POEMS 289 

Her forests, rocks, her wonders, I maintain 

Those who well know them nobler men will be, 

And larger their spirituality. 

O, Nature, quiet, lovely Nature, we 

Under thy influence would wish to be ; 

To know of God 's creation makes us wise ; 

His trees, His fruits, His plants, His flowers, His skies : 

And all the universe clear- voiced shall teach, 

Man mortal and decaying things must reach, 

For they help teach us when this life we've trod — 

Our soul immortal is — there is a God. 

XII. 

Man differs from the things that God created 
To live with Him ; for man is separated 
From mountain, forest, birds, or any beast — 
O'er all creation Man is still high priest. 
He has the power God's office to fulfill, 
Alone controls by voluntary will ; 
Alone has perfect power of free migration ; 
Alone removes from station unto station ; 
On Mother Earth, changes his dwelling-place ; 
Alone can mingle with some other race ; 
Changes one air for other, east or west ; 
Seeks at his will the climes that he loves best ; 



290 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 

From north to south, from forest and from plain ; 

Goes from the lowland to the highland main ; 

Or from the torrid to the frigid clime, 

And lives, and likewise thrives in all, sublime. 

'Tis true the dog in every clime is known, 

Goes with his master, Man, from zone to zone ; 

The lion lives in Af ric 's sunny breeze, 

Except when caged and carried 'cross the seas. 

Seeds emigrate — that task the winds perform — 

Birds fly across the ocean with the storm ; 

Indeed, they sometimes warmer climates seek, 

At times the cooler crags and mountain peak. 

But these are certainly but chance migrations, 

And should not be confounded with earth's nations. 

Seeds go with the winds; birds fly with the season; 

God 's child, proud Man, alone migrates by reason ; 

To no one place restricted, here to-day, 

To-morrow elsewhere, as he wills or may. 

By myriads each year their Emerald Isle 

The Irish leave, with sad and tearful smile, 

To seek a home beyond the far-off sea, 

Be with his brother there forever free ! 

His bogs remain, and will, forever fast, 

A part of Ireland, future, present, past. 

The Germans come, but their black forests stay, 

Enduring monuments, till Time 's decay. 



AND OTHER POEMS 291 

Man orders changes, goes where he may please 
O'er all the earth, and over all the seas. 
The wise man travels over seas and lands, 
Notes what he wills, and thus his mind expands ; 
Sees many races, reads their books ; and then 
Learns science and the arts and tongues of men ; 
He thus fulfills his destiny below — 
Knows well himself, and others tries to know. 

XIII. 

And then no other being but proud Man 
Possesses power of speech, by which he can 
Ideas express, his very thoughts convey, 
Vary, enlarge, and broaden, day by day, 
Nature, 'tis true, has voice ; her spheres abound 
With music sweet, with Nature 's heavenly sound ; 
For there is music in the ocean's roar ; 
And there is music in the torrent 's pour ; 
And there is music in the waves that crash 
Upon the ocean's rocks, then roll and dash 
In tide that ebbs and flows from out the sea, 
With rolling sound of deepest melody. 
All Nature has a voice — the insects gloat, 
And sing or chirp, in their peculiar note ; 
The Locust's song is heard thro' all the land 



292 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 

To-day, as first it sang on Egypt 's strand ; 
Chirps still the cricket at the twilight's dawn , 
Croaks still the frog as in the ages gone ; 
The serpent hisses, rattles, warns its foes 
Ere it will deal its death impending blows ; 
Still may be heard the cry of crocodile 
Unchanged tho' centuries roll along the Nile. 
The birds still twitter, scream or chirp, in talk, 
Save few that do possess the power to mock • 
But Man the voice of reason doth command : 
His speech, this thought, his reason doth expand ; 
How high is he endowed — divinely wrought, 
Who by his speech conveys eternal thought. 

XIV. 

'Tis clear that Man controls the natural forces, 
Lord over mountains, valleys, water-courses, 
He can the lightning harness, for his thought, 
To flash around the world. And he has taught 
The lower creatures to obey his will, 
And all his menial duties to fulfill. 
He pierces mountains, and the lakes he fills 
With excavations from the stately hills ; 
Rivers, that in broad channels proudly go, 
Are changed, in hidden million rills to flow 



AND OTHER POEMS 293 

To houses in tile cities far away, 

For grateful ministry to man each day ; 

The deep blue ocean, with relentless waves, 

Man plows his way through with great ships, and 

braves 
Its storms and hardships, things of greatest worth 
He brings from all the nations of the earth. 
Forcing the elements, combining skill 
To uses new, by force of power and will. 
The lower beings naught invent, create, 
They processes repeat, nor hesitate 
For generations o 'er the same to do, 
Ingenious it may seem, 'tis never new. 
On Syrian hills the leopards hunt to-day, 
As in the ages gone they sought their prey ; 
The beaver builds his dam across the stream, 
No more ingenious now than past, 'twould seem. 
And busy bee, its cells for storing food, 
Of old was just as now, tho' always good; 
The ant has found no new way food to stow, 
Resorting still to her old process slow. 
The busy mind of man is ever wise : 
He presses on, inventions to devise; 
His mind, not satisfied with former deeds, 
With new resources struggles and succeeds. 
The rudest savage will much more invent 



294 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 

Than the wisest animal that God e'er sent. 

The spider's web, as it doth float in air, 

Can it with weavings of the loom compare ? 

Is the fastidious butterfly, so gay, 

Flitting among the gorgeous flowers of May, 

To be compared to chemist, who by skill, 

Combines the flowers, their essence makes at will ? 

XV. 

Another difference, 'tis left for Man 

To interpret Nature, read God's plan. 

Their law the other works of God obey, 

But Man interprets well their law each day. 

Back to the origin of things Man turns, 

To know, explain things, quick his eyes discerns— 

The past, notes changes — growths now gone will tell, 

Transmits the annals of this world as well. 

A century rolls and yet the raven lives, 

But no account of other ravens gives. 

The brute but knows its own small time and place, 

It has no knowledge of its kind or race. 

Man has no limit ; he is not confined 

To races of the past. His well-stored mind 

Knows lore of former worlds; and even then 

As well the present, too, for do not men 



AND OTHER POEMS 295 

Seek knowledge of the present, past, and read 

The future by the past — its teachings heed? 

He cares to question Nature, ferret out 

Her secrets ; not content to be in doubt. 

Serene forever, well content to stand 

The mountain is. Careless of beast or Man 

That comes or goes. It does not ask nor care, 

In all its thousand years, why it is there. 

The rills play down its sides ; the wild goat leaps 

'er its wild crags, and 'round its rocky steeps • 

It has no rival mountain, far or near, 

And does not wish to know why I am here. 

But Man, who dies to-morrow, tries the task 

To have these questions answered, and will ask 

Of all Creation's works for answer plain, 

The mysteries of living to explain. 

Will watch the growth of plants, still finding pleasure ; 

And in the tiniest flower a priceless treasure. 

For in created things there dwells a soul — 

In trees, rocks, mountains, in the streams that roll 

Forever to the sea. ' Tis sweet to hear 

The music of the groves. Upon the ear 

The bird-notes fall but lightly — yet they bear 

Soft soothing to the senses, like a prayer. 

The star-sown heavens declare Creation's glory, 

And Nature's varied charms repeat the story. 



296 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 

He sings the glories of the heavenly throng, 
For him the silent stars attune their song ; 
And o 'er the face of Nature Man will throw 
Effulgent glory ; 'twill in beauty glow ; 
He makes instructive, eloquent each part, 
So wise, so skillful, so sublime his art. 
Thus Man alone, how proud to bear the name, 
As Nature's sole interpreter may claim. 

XVI. 

Aspiring Man ! The knowledge you possess 
Has also taught thee cunning, to transgress 
God's laws. Of God's created things 
For only Man his sinful nature brings, 
To curse the world. 'Mid sin and vice he gropes, 
And yet, through all, this strangest being hopes ! 
The star of Bethlehem to earth came down 
Not to save beasts — but Man, creation's crown. 
He came to save ; and so, thro ' storm and night, 
Our timid eyes turn upward to the light. 
We scan the future, not with doubt and fear, 
But filled with hope of what shall yet appear. 
Beyond to starry worlds, o 'er time and sense, 
Man leaps the boundaries to realms immense. 
His ardent spirit, calm and hopeful, longs 
When life is o'er to join supernal throngs. 



AND OTHER POEMS 297 

XVII. 

Almighty God ! For what thy hand has given 
We bless thee ; Ruler of the earth and heaven. 
We praise thee for immortal life, and trust 
All men may yet be numbered with the just ; 
We thank thee, Lord, for that enduring hope, 
As darkly thro ' this earthly life we grope ; 
We worship thee, our Father, for the word 
That tells thy promise Man shall be preferred. 
Oh, Hope ! that 's long deferred, but ever still 
A star, a dazzling star, that always will 
Be guide of Man, poor Man upon the earth, 
Doomed, fated, sad, from very hour of birth ; 
And when, at last, the heavenly voice shall speak 
And bid thee share the endless rest ye seek, 
Oh, be ye ready! ever watchful, pray! 
For life's soon o'er, comes then the endless day. 

Oh, holy light ! Born of eternal years ! 
The blind shall know thee, yet rejoice in tears ! 
In heavenly home, beyond the starry skies, 
Man yet shall praise thee, Ruler, just and wise. 
Man surely hath dominion, honor, here, 
Created Lord of earth, without a peer. 



298 BIRCH-ROD DAYS 



THE OLD RIVER ROAD. 

'Twas a famous old turnpike back in its day, 
Over which there was carried full many a load 

Of freights, and of passengers wending their way 
On their journeys along the old river road. 

A long line of movers used to adorn 

The old river road and follow its trail; 

The jolly stage driver with bright bugle-horn; 
The rockaway coach with the government mail. 

The bridge that was dark and all covered with moss, 
A huge wooden structure of the pioneer day; 

That spanned the big creek we all had to cross ; 
Is in mouldering ruins now left to decay. 

Old time 's a destroyer, his ruins complete, 

His burdens so heavy — o 'whelming the load; 

Unveiling 's a task not with pleasure replete, 
Let them be forgotten like the old river road. 



\HM.--l0-* 





One copy del. to Cat. Div. 






